


Once Upon A Time - A Dragon's Tale

by Meowbowwow



Category: Sherlock (TV), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alpha!Sherlock, Fluff, M/M, Omega!John, Omegaverse, Other, Smauglock, Smut, but let this be known that dragons have sex with hobbits, mycroloft is a softie on the inside uwu, they get married
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-10
Updated: 2014-06-29
Packaged: 2017-11-28 20:13:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 25,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/678453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meowbowwow/pseuds/Meowbowwow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroloft had to do something to stop his brother from destroying the earth. And so, he sent him their best slave, Johnbo.<br/>"Mycroloft could bet his entire sweet meat collection (even though he had no ambitions in gambling and things like that) that this hobbit would save his brother and all the earth from its, what seemed to be set if not stopped, ruination. He knew that this hobbit could be the making of his brother, or make him worse than ever."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

Smauglock was the most vicious dragon in the history of vicious dragons and his tales ran shudders down the spines of everyone with feet and wings alike. The dragon's body was more than a thousand years old and his mind a few million, but his soul burnt with the passion of a thousand fiery stars that dragons, over the centuries had gobbled up.

The dragon lore ran thus - every dragon, when he came of age (at five hundred years old, that is), flew as far as he could and traced the end of the horizon with his gargantuan body until he could fly no more. The most victorious of dragons had gone to the end of three galaxies, their bejewelled bodies a mere blur because of their superior speed and beautiful wingspans dancing in the air, melting against the blue sky. The dragons set a target for themselves which was usually a star, a dying star because dragons worshipped stars and when one consumed a dying star, one not only came of age but was rewarded with an insatiable sexual appetite that lasted for three to four days. The winner (or Dragon Lord) would then rest on the nearest moon and wait for his fellow dragons to send smaller and inconsequential dragons and other creatures to them where this huge appetite could be satisfied.

Smauglock had no such ambitions, it not only seemed pointless to the extremely short tempered dragon but it bored him, terribly. And if there was one thing Smauglock was known for, it was his devastating boredom levels. When he was going through on of his boredom fits, he would fly over huge towns and destroy them in a breath of blue dragon fire, cities quivered under his wrath and spires were snapped in half like twigs of old oak trees. Smauglock destroyed indiscriminately and glorious towns had been reduced to dust. His name travelled far and wide and not only the elves and dwarves but fellow dragons feared him as well.

Smauglock’s family had tried in vain to get him interested in their ways, all the wealthy families would have given their right wing to have Smauglock take their daughters or sons (whatever floated his sky, no one was absolutely sure) but Smauglock would take one look at them and tell them their entire life story in seconds, not even pausing for a fiery breath. He was slowly getting a name for channelling his great grandfather, Rathbonelock’s seerlike qualities and whenever the Lock Family heard about it, his mother would purse her jaws in pain and Smauglock would let out a giant roar of laughter (which ended up with him distressing his mother to no end). Smauglock’s brother was Mycroloft and if there was one person who was a cause for Smauglock’s trouble, it was him (he also seemed to have a hold over Smauglock’s actions and that was another reason why Smauglock despised of him).

Slowly, all the towns around them were destroyed, Smauglock would sit at the lip of his lair and watch the flames rise to the sky and it gave him some sort of poetic peace to watch the paper towns die so. And yet, it was clear that soon, Smauglock would have nothing to do and would move on to other parts of earth, carrying destruction in his wake. And so, Mycroloft who was the cleverest dragon is the history of dragons, devised a plan.

The Lock family had a team of hobbits who did their daily chores like cleaning their lairs and stroking their wings when they were tired. The cleverest of these hobbits was Johnbo and Mycroloft could bet his entire sweet meat collection (even though he had no ambitions in gambling and things like that) that this hobbit would save his brother and all the earth from its, what seemed to be set if not stopped, ruination. He knew that this hobbit could be the making of his brother, or make him worse than ever. But something had to be done, and so he did it.

And so Johnbo, the Hobbit was sent as a present to Smauglock to work for him, as his slave. When Smauglock saw him, he snorted derisively, seeing right through his brother’s plan.

“I’ll be your slave,” Johnbo muttered as he entered the cave. Smauglock was perched on his back, blowing blue flames from his nostrils to the ceiling in one fluid stream as he refused to answer the hobbit. And then the hobbit said something that made Smauglock take notice, it wasn’t a brave gesture, it was a word, uttered with such innocence and genuine admiration that Smauglock stopped and turned his head around to meet Johnbo’s viridian gaze with his steel grey one.

“What did you say?” he tried to sound as nonchalant as he could, a happy cold something fluttering in his heart, the treacherous thing.  
“I said it’s fantastic! Did you make it? I mean, it’s really…just fantastic!” Johnbo seemed unaware of the open jawed expression the dragon was sporting as he continued to gaze in awe at the ceiling and everything around the lair. The ceiling looked like it had been carved and molten from the various jewels which glinted innocently back at them, formed perfectly in the shape of a pair of wings, beginning with the green ones in the centre and ending with reds on the edges. The wings were attached to a human whose back was crafted from pale white gold, he had hair the colour of the midnight sky and wild curly locks which seemed to shine crimson from the light off the jewels. It was beautiful, utterly perfect but there was something sad about it as well, the very stones seemed to ache with it.

“Erm, yeah. Did you really mean it?” Now Smauglock was confused, this was new to him. He wasn’t even sure he had heard anyone use that word for him. No, no one had ever been like this with him and he still wasn’t sure if he preferred it, it made his stomach flip uncomfortably and he turned his face around because he was sure his face was somewhere between a grin and a grimace.

“Yes! Of course, don’t tell me no one’s ever told you that…Master,” Johnbo finished, suddenly realising his position and looking around apologetically.  
“No, that’s not what they usually say. And don’t call me Master, my name is Smauglock.”  
“What do they usually say…Smauglock?” It sounded unusual, saying his name. It was a name people thought cursed and here was this dragon, unsure on how to handle a compliment. Johnbo would have petted his hand had he not been a hundred times his size and oh well, had he had a hand.  
“Erm, piss off.” They started laughing and once they started, it was impossible to stop. It was as if Smauglock had not laughed in ages and the laugh was happy to be free at last. Johnbo knew better than to waste his time thinking such poetic nonsense but that’s what it sounded like, a deep throated rumble that seemed to shake the walls of the cave and the very ground that Johnbo was standing on shook under him. Finally, after what seemed like a hundred years, they stopped and Johnbo wiped his eyes and took the entirely of Smauglock’s appearance in.

The dragon had glorious blue scales that seemed to be sea green at places and mere shimmering olive at others. His wings had flecks of gold and his eyes, which had seemed grey a while back looked black now. He had glorious wings that would probably cover a hundred Johnbos under them but his right wing seemed to quiver a little when he stretched it. If Johnbo were to be truthful, Smauglock’s appearance did seem a little intimidating but there was no doubt that he was a beautiful specimen of dragon race.

As if reading his mind, the dragon turned his great head around and Johnbo could see that the front of his neck had silver splotches that seemed to be wrapped like a scarf around him. It would have been rude to stare but Johnbo just couldn’t stop himself from watching the myriad colours from the ceiling and the gold dance around Smauglock’s graceful neck. Remembering his caretaker duties, Johnbo approached the dragon and even though, all his life, he had seen less hobbits and more dragons, this one made him curl his toes inside his boots. Sensing his uneasiness, Smauglock lowered his head and let out a great roar, the sheer force of which knocked Johnbo back. When he got up, there was a human standing in the place of the dragon, a human which looked eerily like the one on the ceiling, a very beautiful human male who was completely naked and had Smauglock’s wings. His curly hair fell in tufts over his forehead and Johnbo could just see his claws shrink to become hands like his, and his feet were graceful and not covered with hair like Johnbo’s. He noticed that the size of his wings remained more or less the same as he stretched them and yawned, it was a miracle that his slim body could support them.

“Taking human form does not reduce my strength in any way,” Smauglock’s raspy voice had stayed too but it had somewhat mellowed down. Johnbo wondered if he could still shoot fire from his nostrils-  
“I can’t, this form is not equipped to let fire pass through my lungs,” Smauglock answered again and Johnbo realised that he could read minds. He fluttered his wings and Johnbo’s attention was taken by the quivering one again and he met Smauglock’s eye, as if to seek permission and Smauglock shrugged but Johnbo approached him nonetheless.

The dragon sat down on the huge bed of weaved wool and grass that seemed to have been made for his human size and Johnbo deduced that when he went to bed, he turned to his human form. As soon as the thought crossed his mind, he heard an appreciative chuckle from Smauglock and he smiled too.  
“Just stretch them, stretch the wings as much as you can, okay?” Johnbo instructed as his thumb pressed gently at the point where the tissue joined the wings to the shoulder blades and Smauglock stretched them on either side of him so that Johnbo could see that the tissue had a red gash under the right one. As he touched it, Smauglock whimpered (it was still a roar) and Johnbo withdrew his hands quickly.

“You’re hurt. I think I’ll put the clementine leaves on it, don’t move,” he opened the little sack he had and retrieved the leaves from the bottom of it, grinding them in the mortar and pestle and covering the wound with it.  
“Lie down on your front.” Smauglock made some painful sounds because the leaves stung but didn’t complain as he settled. Slowly, the pain seemed to go away and the stinging was replaced by a cool tingling over the wound. Johnbo’s hands were on his wings, running in soothing motions, stopping here and there to examine, a healer’s hands, palms scarred and rough but touch gentle. Smauglock didn’t know when he fell asleep but he hadn’t felt so at peace in a long long time.

 

***

 

The sun was nowhere to be seen when Smauglock woke up and there was a chill in the air. Of course, Smauglock didn’t feel it and moreover, dragons loved the season. Contrary to popular belief, it strengthened their fiery bellies and they also loved the change. Many dragons retired to live on snow-capped peaks. He yawned and stretched his wings out of sheer habit and the pain was almost gone. As he turned around, he saw that Johnbo was still fast asleep, huddled in a small ball on the edge of Smauglock’s bed. The wind howled outside and a gust of ice cold air blew in, making Johnbo wrap his arms around him in his sleep. Smauglock looked around but Johnbo seemed to be sleeping with his little sack under his head and there were no large leaves to cover the hobbit with. After some contemplation, Smauglock stretched his wings out, lying down on his belly, quite far from Johnbo. His left wing hovered over Johnbo’s sleepy form for a second before settling down over the hobbit. Johnbo’s taut body relaxed after a while and he wriggled his feet to hide them under new makeshift warm covers. Even though he wasn’t really sleepy, Smauglock closed his eyes and drifted off into his mind, day dreaming about galaxies made of luminescent liquids that had halogen coloured bubbles and rolled their viridian eyes at him.


	2. Chapter 2

When Smauglock woke up for the second time, Johnbo was still asleep but the sun was out. He assumed it was still early morning, maybe an hour after dawn. Salmon golden sunshine flooded in but didn’t reach their corner; it was still comfortably warm inside the lair. Johnbo had the wing under his arm, his mouth was open and he was drooling a bit. He was dreaming of boats and wine, the combination struck to Smauglock as odd but he had come to understand that forms with lower intellect couldn’t control what they dreamt of. Hence, retrieving his wing gently from Johnbo’s grasp he laid down on his side. Slowly but eventually, the sun rose, mellowed by time, timid in comparison to the dragonkind and Johnbo woke up too. Smauglock didn’t stir and let Johnbo’s hands find the dried clementine leaves and slowly peel them off. The hobbit sighed happily and went out of the lair, singing some song about boats and wines.

 

***

 

“What’s that smell?” Smauglock muttered as he saw Johnbo bending over some pots and pans that hadn’t been there last day. Something was cooking and it smelled fine. The hobbit smiled at him as he said, “You will see,” and continued stirring the pot. After a while, he carefully removed the pot from the fire and sipped the thick red soup like gravy and hummed happily. He took some in a bowl and added some broken bread to it, handling another one to Smauglock.

“What?”  
“Eat it, it’s tomato rabbit stew. You’ll love it.”  
Smauglock smelled it once and put the bowl down. Johnbo looked like he was more confused than offended as he sipped his own stew.  
“Not hungry, maybe later.”  
“But you haven’t had anything since last night.”  
“How do you know that I didn’t have anything last night?”  
“I didn’t but you just confessed,” the hobbit gave a small smile as Smauglock scowled at the soup.  
“Eating slows down my mind, I’m thinking right now.”  
“You can think after you’ve had your food. It’ll go cold otherwise.”  
“No.”

Johnbo didn’t argue. He knew that Smauglock was a much easy going dragon that the others, at least he didn’t ask the hobbit to curtsey every time he dismissed him or worse, kept him chained but Johnbo had still learnt enough not to test a dragon’s temper. There was still a nagging doubt in his head – maybe Smauglock didn’t like rabbits or rabbit stew. He was a queer dragon, maybe he liked something else. Would it be impolite to ask him?

“Oh, it’s not about the rabbit!” Smauglock broke into his head again and Johnbo reminded himself that the dragon could read minds.  
“Yours especially, you’re like an open book,” he did it again and this time, he picked up the bowl and started eating his stew, though the scowl didn’t leave his face. It was like dealing with a twelve year old.  
“It’s brilliant!” Johnbo couldn’t help but remark. He was anyways thinking about it since he had found out about it and Smauglock would know, so he said it. It was nice, in a way, not having to hold back your thoughts.  
“Yes, the stew is really nice, though a bit of modesty would do you good, Johnbo,” he replied, smiling at Johnbo’s revolted expression.  
“I meant you, how you read minds. That is brilliant. I don’t know of any other dragons who can do that and my family has served dragons for centuries, I would have known if there were any.

Smauglock eyed the little hobbit for a while before deciding that it was safe to answer.  
“My grandfather Rathbonelock was a Seer and though, I can’t see the future or change it, I can read minds. Some say I do it better than him.” Smauglock was still a bit surprised as Johnbo didn’t roll his eyes at the obvious arrogant tone. In fact, he seemed to agree to it as he nodded and ate his stew happily. This was very intriguing indeed.

 

***

 

Slowly but steadily, their friendship grew. Smauglock found himself not wanting to leave the lair but Johnbo was a social hobbit and even though other masters didn’t allow their slaves to leave when they wanted to, Smauglock tried hard not to do that. Well, that was until something happened that changed it forever.

Smauglock had been out of the lair in an effort to find some firewood. He would never admit to having enjoyed that morning when the air had been a bit nippy and Johnbo had curled around his wing, so he had decided to build a small bonfire in the lair at night to prepare them for the chilly mornings to come. Personally, Smauglock was never cold for obvious reasons but he told Johnbo that his human form was affected by it, hence putting an end to the discussion. As he carried the huge tree and dropped it at the entrance of the cave, he thought he heard voices but it could be the wind whistling, so he ignored it.

But as he moved closer, there was a distinct sound of raised voices coming from inside the cave. People didn’t enter Smauglock’s cave simply because people preferred to enter places they could come out of. However, since Johnbo had started living there, occasionally, a few hobbits could be seen about the huge rock that was a hundred feet from the cave, not any closer though. Even after Johnbo’s repeated insistence that Smauglock wasn’t as bad a dragon as they made it out to be, people refused to come any nearer to the dragon (and that’s how Smauglock liked it, he would even eat a few hobbits, just to make them stay away).

The voices started growing and eventually, there was a high pitched female giggle and a male’s voice that squeaked. And then there was a scream and an angry shout from Johnbo and even from afar, Smauglock could sense that he was in danger. There was no time for him to change to his human form that his friend preferred, so he swooped down and entered his cave, the air quivering with the sound of the flapping of his wings. When he looked around, this is what he saw – Johnbo was in a corner with a small dagger (a sword for him) in his hands and two dragons, a male and a female had been hovering over him (but were now looking at Smauglock with eyes waiting to pop out of their skull).

“Who enters my lair without my permission?” Smauglock’s wrath could have singed the air and the male dragon visibly shivered. He had green scales of a pale moss like shade that seemed to dull when he cowered. But the woman, who had shiny black scales and beautiful wings with golden edges stood her ground, staring Smauglock right in the eye, venom dripping in her gaze.

“Erm, I am Anderdiot, O Great one, and this is my mate Donovain. We’re not from around here but we know everything about you,” Anderdiot had an oily tone about his voice and Donovain shot him a look of pure loathing, replying in her gruff voice, “We didn’t enter your lair, Smauglock. We were chasing the hobbit and he tried to hide here, we simply followed him.” It irked Smauglock that she was still eyeing the hobbit and her lip curled into an evil smirk when Johnbo backed off into the wall. And then it hit Smauglock, the strong smell of an omega.

Everyone on Middle Earth was classified into Alphas and Omegas. Everyone except dragons who were all alphas. Or Omegas. Basically, they could be whatever they preferred to be and could choose their status. Other creatures, however, didn’t have the strength of mind to bend their bodies to their will, to make their organs work as they wanted. Omegas were the worst sufferers because not only were they picked by their own people and were often taken against their will but other species targeted them too. Obviously, the offspring had a very low chance of survival but there had been instances where it had dual qualities from both the parents. The pheromones from an Omega were so strong that even dragons could not fight against it and Johnbo was nothing short of an open wound for flies at the moment because he smelled so delicious that even Smauglock had to close his eyes to silence the screams in his head.

And as soon as he did close his eyes, in an attempt to clear his head, his alpha dragon brain felt the distress signals from Johnbo, the hobbit was positively shaking and that’s when Smauglock realised – it was his first heat. Smauglock’s long tail instinctively gravitated towards the petrified hobbit and stroked his back once. Johnbo met his eye and Smauglock blinked at him before curling the tail around him and lifting him in the air, gently dropping him on his back, to the dismay and anger of the other two dragons. Johnbo had let out a small yelp when his feet left the ground and was now holding on to Smauglock for support as the dragon moved closer to the two intruders.

“We shall leave now,” Anderdiot tried to move towards the door but Smauglock’s tail landed in front of him with a bang and he flared his nostrils. Donovain, however, looked like she wanted to say something. And she did.  
“You cannot do that. He was ours!” Maybe it was Smauglock’s imagination but it seemed as if the black from her scales was seeping into her eyes that were red, more so with anger.

“I can do whatever I want! He is mine. He is my slave!” Smauglock roared and his tail wrapped around the hobbit again, albeit gently and Johnbo patted it.  
“Yours! Ha, everyone knows you don’t mate. You are a freak, a disgrace for dragons!” She snapped her jaws at him and black fire whistled out of her nostrils. But even she knew that if Smauglock decided to fight for Johnbo, they wouldn’t have a hobbit’s chance in Mordor.

“It’s good that you do know that. Now leave before I lose my patience and send the remains of your wings to your family!!” And Smauglock meant it. The dragons left as quickly as they could, Anderdiot apologising profusely on his mate’s behalf but Smauglock merely blew a jet of fire at their retreating backs and they ran out whimpering.

When they left, Johnbo let out an audible sigh and his momentary calm seemed to be leaving his limbs as Smauglock lowered him on the ground again and slowly went back to his human form. His body shrank back and his muscular clawed feet branched into lanky human limbs. His huge blue wings thinned down a tad, not reducing in size or span and folding neatly behind him.

Johnbo gave a resigned look towards the sky and lay down on his belly, clutching at the straw bedding and closing his eyes. He was crying. Smauglock didn’t understand.  
“They are gone. They won’t hurt you again, ever.” He tried explaining and as he approached the hobbit, Johnbo seemed to draw into himself, shuddering and taking deep breaths.  
“Do you need someone? Or something? I don’t know what to do,” and he really did not. It was well out of his sphere. He had never had an omega in his life and even though his body had responded to the pheromones, his mind had always rejected the idea as banal. Moreover, Johnbo’s mind was a tumult of emotions at that moment and Smauglock could make out nothing coherent in his thoughts, it was a din on hormones and ideas. And fear.

“I can only ask you to be gentle since…this is the first time I’ve been in heat,” and with that, Johnbo started sobbing. Smauglock didn’t know what to and he didn’t understand, so he did what he did best, he went into Johnbo’s mind to calm him down and get some answers.  
“Oh!” he said as he found the cause for the hobbit’s worry. It was a bit disappointing that Johnbo would think something like… that about him but now was not the time to do that. 

“Get up,” Smauglock whispered gently and the hobbit got up slowly to face him, there were tear trails down his face and Smauglock sat back, trying to remember the joint compulsory lessons he and Mycroloft were taught on how to soothe an omega. He folded his legs and sat back, meeting the hobbit’s eye and smiling at him as kindly as he could. And then he opened his arms, it felt awkward but he was sure that his father had taught him exactly that and it was best to trust the learned in these matters. Johnbo seemed to be fighting a battle with himself but as an omega, his body felt the pull of an alpha, and so he crawled into Smauglock’s lap and let his head be tucked under the chin. However, he felt no pull of the bone crushing need that he had heard of. He didn’t want the alpha to take him, but it felt good, sitting like this in the strange warmth all over him.

“That’s because you’re scared. You see, omegas have this mechanism in their body that shuts off their heat cycle when they are in a threatening situation. It doesn’t happen all the time but it has been known to happen. When you saw those two repulsive dragons, it started acting up. Your scent has changed, it isn’t an alluring scent but a distress signal to your alpha, calling for help,” Smauglock explained as his hands ran on the hobbits back gently. He had a soft skin and there was a knotted scar on his shoulder that was wanting Smauglock’s fingers to examine, maybe later he would ask Johnbo to let him do it.

“But…those dragons still wanted to mate with me, so-”  
“They were of a lower intellect. Conscientious alphas would never mate without an omega’s express consent. Yes, sometimes the consent is dubious because of the pheromones that act on your body and their but, in your case, there is no consent. Your body is rejecting everything because you are so scared. If you could smell yourself right now, you would have understood the difference,” Smauglock pulled him closer to his chest and continued to draw circles on the hobbit’s back. This was enjoyable, the feeling of Johnbo’s soft body nestled against him, comparatively cooler and softer than Smauglock’s. It pleased him to be tending to his omega…an omega like this.

“Do I smell bad?” Johnbo’s voice was a bit concerned and Smauglock pulled his head down and inhaled deeply around his neck, licking his lips as there was a flash of white in front of his eyes and he willed his erection away.  
“No, you smell heavenly. But your heat is slowly postponing itself, you’ll be normal by morning,” Smauglock ran his hands through the hobbit’s golden brown curls and Johnbo purred against his chest. The smell of Smauglock was a hint of something his mother used to put as a secret ingredient in her dishes. Johnbo had not been able to ask her about it and she had died but the ingredient had followed him everywhere and people had no idea about it. It was like something slightly charred, like burnt wood and pine, and maybe nutmeg but not really. It was spicy and warm, even its memory had rocked him to sleep on many a sorrowful nights when he was a new slave.

Eventually, Smauglock’s wings came to the front, cocooning them both under them and it was warm and nice under them. Johnbo felt himself drifting of and he remembered the mystery fragrance being everywhere around him as sleep doused his being. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, thank you for reading and please let me know if you find any errors or typos. 
> 
> xx  
> Meow


	3. Chapter 3

 

It was quite cold when Smauglock woke up and found Johnbo staring at him but as soon as he saw that the dragon was looking, he lowered his eyes. He was still on his lap and Smauglock could feel his back aching a little but he dared not move. It was as if moving would break a million bubbles, like it was important to not speak or say anything and most definitely, not move.

“Thank you… for yesterday,” Johnbo managed, his palm resting flat against the slightly hairy torso. He could hear Smauglock’s heart even without putting his ear against the chest, dragon hearts thumped louder and faster than any other creatures.  
“That’s because dragons mate for life,” Smauglock answered Johnbo’s thoughts and the hobbit blushed, still not used to the intrusion, though in no way offended by it.  
“How are you feeling now?” He gently straightened himself, unable to fight the pain on his back and folding his wings back to where they belonged. Johnbo shifted and got off his lap, sitting on the bedding and rubbing his eyes against his knuckles. Smauglock was stuck by how adorable the hobbit looked in the morning. His curly hair was all over his face and Smauglock struggled with the urge to run his hands through them again, like he had last night and he reminisced about how they had felt as his fingers ran through them and Johnbo settled closer to him, the scared omega needing protection, _his_ omega… he stopped his thoughts before they could become tangible.

“I feel good now, much better,” Johnbo replied, looking around for his sack and suddenly feeling exposed. There was a slight feverish taste is his mouth that he wasn’t sure of. And then there was that scent, his secret stalker.  
“Good. Your next heat would probably be in 3 months, you should look for a strong alpha,” Smauglock successfully kept the ache out of his voice, drinking the water from the leaf next to his bed to avoid showing his face.  
  
This was hard for Smauglock, he wasn’t used to not speaking his mind. But he tried very hard, his hardest and a dragon’s hardest can be pretty hard. And he didn’t even know why it was so difficult, he had seen many beautiful beings of all species that walked the earth. If he were to be honest, he had been told that he was one of them, one of the better specimens created by Eru Iluvatar (not that he believed in all that dragondung!). And yet.

Smauglock tried to close his mind, tried to open his senses and it had never been more difficult for him. He had sat in this very lair for eternities, practicing and controlling, honing and shifting everything with precision. Every little crevice in his brain had a name, had a thing attached to it, it was something most dragons could only hope for and no one had ever achieved, not even Mycroloft. He had despised of emotions, called it a banality of the existence of lower life forms and yet, here he was, his unreliable heart thumping louder than ever.

Smauglock had read Rathbonelock’s old journals, they were the only inherited thing he had kept safe, perused on rainy days, on times of upheaval in his long life and he knew what this sudden rush meant. He had known it when his tail had curled around the hobbit possessively, when anger had coursed his veins hotter than a thousand suns when he witnessed the hobbit cornered by two unworthy dragons. He knew what it was even before the final confirmation that dragon scrolls bleateded loudly about. It was a constant drumming in his head and it went – _Mine, Mine, Mine._ Smauglock decided that he needed to get out of the lair, get some fresh air and maybe uproot at least a hundred trees to feel better.

Without another word, he got up, loose strands of grass and a few golden red hairs sticking to him and following him like the hobbit’s eyes. He closed his mind, refused to read his. It was the most difficult thing he had ever done. And as he let out a huge roar and stretched, already cursing his human form, the clinking of the stones on the ceiling obscene, something rare happened. Something even Smauglock didn’t know about. His voice changed to a roar and the familiar pulsing that he was used to feeling just before his transformation hummed in his chest but his wings felt as misplaced as ever. His toes didn’t stretch out and neither did his body. He was a dragon stuck and Mycroloft’s voice came back to him – _one day, little brother, you would be hit so hard that your wings would shrink inwards._ And another voice came back as well, of his great grandfather – _Try as I might I could not fly, I couldn’t become a dragon. She just stood there, unfazed by my roar, a knowing smile already curling her elven lips up and I fought harder. I lost and what a beautiful loss it was._

Smauglock tried again. Tried to become what he was - unfeeling, relentless, merciless, outrageous and most of all, unloved and unloving. He failed. Of course, Johnbo saw it but the hobbit had no idea about such intricacies of dragon hearts.

“You would need an alpha, I’ve heard that it can become pretty unbearable for omegas. Now, I’m going out. Don’t wait for me and… don’t go out yet. There’s enough food and fire to last a day.”

“Hmm, I don’t think so,” Johnbo looked away, locating his sack at last and sifting through his belongings.  
“What don’t you think?”  
“I don’t need another alpha. I have one already, if he’ll take me.”  
“Anyone would be delighted to take you, Johnbo. And I’m not a dragon that laces his words with honey, I mean it.” His wings could have dissolved right there and then and he wouldn’t feel a thing.

Johnbo shrugged. _You, I mean you._ He didn’t even try to hide his thoughts this time, smiling as Smauglock gave a surprised grunt and snorted the water he was drinking.

“I-what!” was all he could manage as Johnbo turned around to look at him.  
“I thought you liked me…” he mumbled, suddenly unclear about the entire thing. True, Smauglock had never shown any real inclination towards him but last night had been pretty special. At least he had found it to be special.  
“It’s your hormones talking,” Smauglock had a finality about his tone. _You know it’s not. Please don’t do this,_ Johnbo’s mind wouldn’t pause but he merely shrugged and nodded, understanding that as a dragon, Smauglock would prefer someone else, maybe a fellow dragon or given Smauglock’s intellect, perhaps an elf. And he would deserve it, of course he would.

“No! It’s not that, really Johnbo, please listen to me,” it was the first time he’d uttered his name and it sounded beautiful in that deep voice, Johnbo looked at him and Smauglock looked pained, more confused than he’d ever seen him.  
“That look doesn’t suit you,” Johnbo crawled back at him and dared to touch his hair, petting lightly before he cupped his face in his hands and rested their foreheads together. Smauglock’s forehead was warm and Johnbo could practically hear the chaos running amok in his mind.  
“What is it then? Tell me,” he whispered, not opening his eyes, enjoying the feeling of the hot breath against his skin. He wasn’t even sure if this was going to cost him, it was an insubordination and even if Smauglock was a relatively easy dragon to serve, he was still a dragon. And Johnbo had been taught that one could never tame a dragon. But he had to take the chance, so he looked up and repeated his question, waiting.

  
“I don’t know,” Smauglock sighed, and he really didn’t know. He didn’t do this, relationships and emotions weren’t really his strong points.

“We’ll figure it out together then,” Johnbo smiled when Smauglock nodded. He tilted his head forwards and brushed his lips against the dragon’s. Smauglock let out a surprised noise before he repeated the gesture, enjoying the feel of their lips resting against each other, the gentle tug of Johnbo’s fingers in his hair kicking all sounds in his head as his own hands tried to find purchase on Johnbo’s waist. He leaned back and let the hobbit fall on top of him, their mouths still locked together and then the hobbit’s tongue was tracing his cupid’s bow, licking his lower lip and nudging it, coaxing it to open. Smauglock gasped at the new sensation and opened his mouth, inviting the tongue in and groaning as Johnbo explored it with gentleness, tickling the roof of his mouth and brushing his tongue against the inside of his cheeks.

Smauglock’s mouth was a heady mixture of everything Johnbo had been chasing all his life, it was the same strange fragrance that he had never been able to point down and perhaps, would forever associate with this burning mouth that he was kissing. It was a cathartic sort of sensation, travelling between them and drowning Johnbo’s senses. Johnbo wasn’t a bad looking hobbit at all, he had kissed many a maidens, once even an elf lady but never had he lost himself so badly. He was falling down the schism that was Smauglock’s lips and he never wanted to come out, he didn’t want it to end. The dragon let the tongue explore his mouth, learning quickly and waiting for him to finish. And then he mimicked Johnbo, but he was a bit harsher, the kiss was more Smauglock and less Johnbo now, there were more teeth and gentle nipping on Johnbo’s lower lip which made him moan against Smauglock’s lips and tighten his grip in those curly locks. And the tongue darted inside his mouth and tried to reach everywhere at once, so claiming. It was like molten lava covering everything in its wake, melting and moulding the ground under it and Johnbo shuddered as the hands that had soothed him last night were now running at his sides, achingly slow and pulling him apart.

They broke the kiss, panting against each other and still locked in an embrace. Smauglock’s hand slowly came up to rest against Johnbo’s cheek and he stroked it gently, smiling to himself.

“What is it?” Johnbo muttered, not needing to look up to see that the dragon was lost in his thoughts.  
“Nothing, that was the first time I did… that.” He almost sounded shy.  
“Worth the wait, I hope,” Johnbo looked up and kissed his chin as the dragon nodded, helping him slide down and curling up behind him. Neither of them had never fallen asleep so fast and so content.

 

***

 

“Would you like to spend…your next heat with me, Johnbo?” Smauglock mumbled against his hair, the hobbit still smelled exceedingly delectable, even without the pheromones pumped out. He was sure that the hobbit was asleep and was surprised out of his scales when he got back an answer.  
“I would like to spend all my heats with you since I’ve recently been told that dragons mate for life,” he knew Smauglock was smiling when he buried his face in the back of his neck and hummed happily.

And before Smauglock could think twice, Johnbo guided his arms to wrap around his torso, muttering something that sounded like “oh for Iluvatar’s sake” before putting his own hand over the dragon’s and going back to sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, I'm nervous about this chapter.


	4. Chapter 4

The following weeks passed with touches stolen in trifle activities, passing of steaming mugs of tea that Smauglock had grown to love as much as the hobbit did. Johnbo insisted on regular meals (perhaps, not as regular as the hobbit himself who had two breakfasts, two lunches and three dinners, if he could help it) and he was pretty strict about it as well. There were more kisses, obviously and they left Smauglock terribly frustrated, so much so that he had to ask Mycroloft to have clothes being made for him. Going around in the nude and having to will away his arousal was becoming a tad tedious and Johnbo always gave him a strange sort of look when he closed his eyes and killed his brain cells trying to concentrate on unnerving organs wanting to make their presence known as a certain hobbit trapped his lower lip in his mouth and sucked on it with shameless moaning sounds.

“You are the only one who wants to wait.”  
“I am sorry, I am a traditionalist. I want to consummate our relationship when you get your first heat. Oh, and I have something nice planned as well,” Smauglock retorted as they went through their usual arguments. Johnbo wasn’t a dragon and he couldn’t really afford to take a bath in the cold stream every time Smauglock assaulted his mouth. He had just realised that the dragon had sensitive ear lobes and they were waiting to be sucked when he was jolted out of his merry thoughts by a retreating Smauglock, spluttering for air. Investigation had revealed the dragon’s draconian ideas but it always threw Johnbo off balance when Smauglock closed his eyes and took great audible breaths, opening them and gasping for air.

“I just want to do it the right way, okay?” Smauglock mumbled as he pulled the hobbit in his arms and kissed his forehead, hands running all over his body.  
“Yes, I know. What’s the mystery, by the way?” The hobbit couldn’t help but get excited about the prospects, even though it scared him a bit. There had been no known associations between dragon and hobbits in the entire history of middle earth. Of course, there had been sexual slaves but none in an established relationship between the two races. He had found out everything he could about heats and was quite up to the brim in information about first heats, but no one could give him tips about making love to a dragon, except possibly to not scream at them or they would eat you after they made out with you or possibly roast you, none of which made sense in Johnbo’s case.

Also, another problem was about Smauglock telling his “noble” family about his adventures. There had been quite a few messages sent, all sarcastic, about the utter lack of devastation in the adjoining towns from The Lock family. Smauglock usually ignored them but on occasion, Johnbo had found them burnt to a crisp, tending to the occasional fire that burnt in their temporary hearth. So, one day Mycroloft decided to come over with Lord Gregroary, his special dragonfriend, and they grilled Johnbo with questions related to his lineage, his sudden interest in the dragon. While Lord Gregroary waited outside, Mycroloft even offered Johnbo gold to pass “harmless information” at which Johnbo had to clench his fists inside his pockets. Of course, Smauglock wasn’t around and they were smart enough to leave before the dragon came back. However, he took one look at Johnbo and knew everything that had happened. The only good that came out of it was that Smauglock clung on to him when they slept at night, as opposed to the usual walking around while Johnbo fell asleep.

 

***

The dragon was full of surprises, some good ones, mostly just a bit difficult to get used to. There were things (that he called “curious artefacts” and Johnbo called “pile of rubbish”) that the dragon liked to examine at his leisure. They were charred animal remains or sometimes, freshly dead birds that greeted Johnbo when he went out for a while, there were areas in the lair that he absolutely refused to walk past because they had blood samples in leaf packets hanging about from strings or sometimes the skull of a smaller animal adorning the walls of the lair. On Johnbo’s insistence to get torch brackets, Smauglock had gone ahead and attached something which looked like human ribs on the walls, thereby granting an eerie (eerier!) look to the lair.

But one of the nicer surprises was when Johnbo awoke one morning, having a strangely troubled sleep because Smauglock had insisted that he had to “reassort his mind mountain” after a particularly gruesome week spent analysing a weird and hitherto unknown specimen of bones that he had found on top of a mountain (on one of his excursions that he maintained were meant to find better herbs for Johnbo’s stew). When Johnbo woke up, sweating in spite of the cold, a beautiful sight greeted him, much better than any morning sun.

The ceiling, with the pale back and the pair of wings, had been resculpted and there was a small individual in brown and gold that now sat on the left shoulder. There was barely any detailing but the colours had brightened and what had earlier seemed forlorn, now looked sunny and merry. The face with the crimson black locks had been repositioned to tilt towards the little form on the shoulder, head bowing down a little. Johnbo had no idea how long he stared at the sight, lost in wonderful tales of adventure and mirth. And then he felt the warmth again, it started with a strange feeling in his belly and rose up in sick waves, so much so that as he sat up, he regurgitated all of last night’s rosemary patisserie.

“Oh god,” he managed as another bout shook him and out went the last of the garlic bread in the pile.  
“Lay back, I will clean it all up,” Smauglock was at his side in seconds and there were two little dragons with dustpans and pieces of cloth to clean up the mess. After lighting incense and taking Johnbo’s pulse, they gave a small nod and left the cave.

Johnbo was too sick to even fight back against slaves cleaning up his lair. His throat was chafed and somehow, sitting closer to Smauglock made him want to lean in and make the dragon lie on top of him.

“Hmm, that would only worsen it, you’re not ready yet,” Smauglock smiled, his warm palm resting on Johnbo’s forehead once before he withdrew it and replaced it with a piece of cloth dipped in icy cold water.

“Oh god, has it been three months already?” Johnbo moaned, pulling Smauglock towards himself and rubbing his face against the dragon’s long neck. And god he smelled good, Smauglock had to actually restrain himself from tearing off the hobbit’s clothes and pounding into him.  
“Please, do it. Please,” the hobbit pleaded, pushing the cloth off his forehead and darting his tongue out to lick the beads of sweat that ran down the dragon’s neck in rivulets and were now burning the hobbit’s tongue. But Smauglock had been right, it really did make it worse for the hobbit as he was taken over by an urge to grind his hips, the soft bedding inadequate.

“Don’t do it. It will worsen your woes,” Smauglock helped the hobbit up and pulled him on his clothed lap, letting him rest against his chest, his small form seemed even smaller, face littler and breathing faint. He did have the draught Mycroloft had sent but he hadn’t wanted to use it. Perhaps, they would have to leave early then.

“What are you thinking about?” Johnbo’s voice sounded distant and he was almost wheezing.  
“Nothing, wait here,” Smauglock was back with the vial, the golden liquid shimmering in it. As he uncorked it, it smelled of grass and cold mountains. Johnbo still had his eyes closed and Smauglock gently tipped the contents into his mouth, licking the slight bit that dribbled from the corner.

“What is this?” Johnbo’s voice sounded stronger already, the effect was visible and Smauglock made a mental note to thank his brother. Obviously, dragons could communicate mentally and Mycroloft sent a “no worries, little brother” his way instantly.  
“It’s a potion made for dragon omegas when they start with their heats but aren’t quite ready. As you can imagine, dragons can get a tad tedious to be with when they are this impatient, combine that with the female dragon’s wrath and you have the entire world at danger.”  
“Says Smauglock, The Calm One,” Johnbo sniggered, nuzzling his shoulder affectionately and then he remembered what he had been wanting to ask since the liquid hit his throat.

“The taste, what is it made of? That strange fragrance, charred wood and pine sort of, with a hint of nutmeg. I can’t quite place it, it’s a fragrance that has chased me for a long time. My mother- why are you smiling?” And Smauglock was. It was old magic, ancient folklore that creatures of middle earth didn’t quite believe in anymore. Of course, Smauglock had read it and though, he had never given any thought to it before now, it came flooding back to him in his grandfather’s curling handwriting.

It said that every creature that walked the grounds or flew the skies, and that could think was always chased by that one taste or fragrance throughout his life. Many creatures died without knowing what the fragrance was and most actually forgot about it. They would remember and chase for a while, be curious when they were young and give up when they got older. Very few in the past and none at all in current times ever found it – the bit of shared fire that burnt inside two people. Dragons believed that everything was created when fire and earth collided. While others had more earth in them, dragons had more fire. Men had the exact proportion of both which made them perfect creatures. However, Iluvatar thought that there were too few earthlings and he had exhausted all his energy is making the ones that he already had. And so, he divided them all and multiplied them into two. They shared the fire that burnt in them and were left to find their other halves. This potion was made when dragon wizards performed magic on the lava stuck at the bottom of their sacred volcano. They say it tasted like your chase-fragrance to you.

Johnbo was fascinated by the story and rubbed his chest with fascination, as if he could feel something fiery inside him. Smauglock kissed his head and made to get up.

“If you’re feeling better, just pack some food. We’ll be going on a journey, I think it’ll be wise for us to leave as soon as possible. We’ll be returning in 5 sunsets, so you should also pack some clothes. Oh, and-” he ran his thumb on the edge of a silver bowl Johnbo always used to feed him fruits, a few beads of crimson blood appearing instantly, and put it in the hobbit’s mouth, “suck on it,” he gestured impatiently as the hobbit did.  
“It’ll keep you warm at the height we’ll be travelling in and let you breathe when there’s a lack of air. And a few other qualities that come with dragon blood,” Smauglock said, forcibly retrieving his tongue from the hobbit’s mouth and realising that he should have done this before giving him the potion. He had, inadvertently, weakened the effects of the liquid by the powerful properties of his blood because he was also Johnbo’s alpha.

Soon the packing was done and the dragon went outside to wait for his omega, he was a bit nervous about the thing. He had double checked all the precautions, the map of the sky that Lord Gregroary had provided him with carved on the huge boulder at the bottom of his mind mountain. He stretched out and assumed his dragon form, moving around a bit. He had been coming back to this form less and less and it was a bit awkward to move at first. Johnbo came out with a little sack and another huge one, tying it around Smauglock’s middle as he sat on top of him and rested his forehead against the surprisingly cold scales.

“They’ll get warmer as we get on top,” Smauglock said as Johnbo realised that he was in his head.  
“I thought you’d noticed this when Donovain and Anderdiot paid us a visit,” the dragon gave the hobbit some time to get seated as he ran a few steps and took off, his feet dislodging a few loose rocks (boulders) from the edge of the mountain as the air hit them, almost cutting their faces with its harsh bitter cold.

It was a bit uncomfortable at first, mainly because Johnbo had never tried this. He chided himself for that, some practice would have been good and it took him an age to place his wings gently behind himself, his knees folded on either side of Smauglock’s thick neck as he wrapped his hands around it. Soon, his head was resting on the shimmering blue scales. He dared to look down, the world seemed distant and they were going very fast, he could imagine looking at himself from down there and the very idea made his stomach flip.  
“Don’t look down, I don’t want you to throw up on me,” Smauglock laughed, a raspy low rumble that tickled Johnbo’s entire body as he smirked and held on tighter. The wings flapped gently and soon, the sound was nothing more than a rustle, put in an envelope and stored inside his pocket. It was actually soothing, the flapping of the wings seemed to dissolve into the gentle sound that was Smauglock’s body cutting through the air and his heavy breathing singed the very senses of Johnbo as he felt himself being lulled into sleep, Smauglock’s tail snaking up to wrap around him securely as the hobbit dozed off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's going to be some smut in the next chapter. And your comments are always appreciated. :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mature content where dragons give oral stimulation to hobbits.

 

It was very warm, uncomfortably so and there was a continuous thudding in his ears that threatened to split his skull. Johnbo was light headed and felt something rise to his throat but nothing came out of his mouth, his back was being stroked by something heavy and hard and he was drenched in sweat that smelled strange and unlike him. As he slowly opened his eyes, he would have fallen off the dragon’s back had the tail not been coiled around his knee, tightening in warning as the hobbit let out a shocked gasp.

The blue skies and the faint cotton candy edges of the evening were gone, the world Johnbo had fallen asleep in was a world left behind, this was something entirely different and enchanting. First of all, there were colours that the hobbit had never seen before in his life, he could maybe tell you their primary component but as he stopped to look at one kaleidoscopic view, another firework would catch his eye and he would forget what he was going to say. The sky was dark, darker than he had ever seen the night become, blacker than the blackest of shadows and it never ended, it seemed to go on and on. Perhaps, it was a path that led to itself, maybe if they kept going further, they would return to the same point. But how would they know if they did? He wondered.

“There is, of course, a map of the universe and the galaxies,” Smauglock’s voice sounded deeper in the darkness and livelier. The dragon were made from the elements, most of which, were not from earth and hence, the space made them stronger and sharper than ever. Their senses were heightened; they could feel their way around every vein of the mottled space like fire in the convolutions of their own heart. Smauglock let in a deep breath and blew a jet of blue fire across a little rock that was floating a few inches from them and instantly, the rock caught fire and whizzed away, a blue tail chasing it as it discovered an orbit of its own and Johnbo smiled, clapping his hands gleefully.

“How are you feeling?” Smauglock manoeuvred through a maze of dust clouds as John tried to catch them between his hands and made a painful sound that sounded something like “not okay”.  
“Instead of speaking out loud, say it in your mind, easier for me to communicate.” Johnbo grunted a reply. The novelty of being in space was starting to wear off a little and the sickeningly familiar feeling from the morning was returning. Of course, Smauglock sensed his discomfort but he was going as fast as he possibly could.

Eventually, Johnbo started unconsciously rutting against the dragon, soaked that he was in his own fluids, it wasn’t helping Smauglock’s resolution at all. Soon, they spotted a moon where the dragon landed, his claws screeching horribly on the smooth surface of the silver body.  
“Rhea,” the dragon stretched his wings and yawned as Johnbo tried to get used to walking without much effort. As the hobbit began to take a walk around, Smauglock followed him. It was instinctive of alphas to follow their omegas and ensure their safety, even when they were miles away from any life form. He looked around, feeling protective of his little omega as he tried to jump and looked surprised when he landed on the ground a millisecond too late.

“Having fun, are we?” Smauglock’s voice teased the hobbit, who stopped immediately, looking embarrassed.   
“This is new for me, you know,” Johnbo chided the grinning dragon, kicking a stone and widening his eyes as it swerved out of sight into the blackness.  
“It’s new for me as well, I haven’t been in these parts before.”  
“Oh? But you’re a dragon. If I were a dragon, I wouldn’t even stay down there for long, maybe just for food.”  
“Yeah, well, I used to fly around when I was a child and had just learn flying, but once I got lost and well…it really upset mummy when Mycroloft had to send a search party for her dear little son.” He sounded bitter.  
“Yes, also a bit lonely here, isn’t it?”   
“Not as lonely as it is down there. Or was, before you…” Johnbo sat on the dragon’s paw, his life sized reflection in the dragon’s grey eyes. He wanted to kiss him but he wasn’t sure he wanted to kiss the dragon, not sure he knew how. What if the dragon accidentally let out a stream of fire while their mouths (jaws?) were locked together? No no no, Johnbo had never liked fires much. 

“That wouldn’t happen, you are such an idiot. And no, you can’t kiss me, don’t have to. Do you want to eat something?” Smauglock blew hot air at the hobbit’s freezing hands, knowing the answer as Johnbo shook his head, eyeing him wistfully as the dragon refused to change his form. He knew that once they started, they wouldn’t be able to stop and knowing him, he wouldn’t want to. But this is not how he wanted to do it. However, Johnbo needed something, he looked pale and even the contained pheromones were starting to break free. Smauglock sat down and dropped Johnbo in front of him.   
  
“Undo your pants and put them in your sack very carefully, I can’t run around space trying to find your pants,” Smauglock muttered as Johnbo looked at him quizzically, not knowing what the dragon was up to. He did as he was told and sat down in front of the dragon. Smauglock was almost tempted to have the hobbit right then and there as Johnbo turned around and lifted his ass towards him, he was not even fully ready and still, his natural lubrication ran down his thighs and Smauglock gave in to temptation as his tongue came out to lick a broad swipe, slowly, licking his way up from the back of the hobbit’s knees towards the inside of his thighs and then ghosting against hole. Johnbo squirmed and panted under him, moaning at the sudden contact while Smauglock’s tongue went under his clothed back.

He knew that the teasing was tormenting the hobbit but this was the first time Smauglock had ever touched someone, he just couldn’t have enough of the hobbit’s scent and taste which was a heady mixture of something grassy and fresh. Johnbo would have very much minded being compared to a salad but the dragon didn’t care about it, not at that moment when he gently licked down the back. His tongue burnt Johnbo and as it touched his hole, Johnbo saw stars brighter than the ones around them. Smauglock pushed his tongue in, not giving him much, barely the tip nudging gently against the soft ring of muscles, wriggling it as his tail held Johnbo at his place, not letting him push back against that sinful tongue.

“Please,” he begged, fighting the tail and thrusting back when finally, Smauglock stopped with the teasing, Johnbo could hear him panting loudly in his head as he fucked the hobbit with his tongue that was surprisingly pliant, folding in on itself till the entirety of the tip was buried deep within Johnbo and though it was not enough, the dragon pushed it in, gently at first and harder later, stretching the muscles, breathing in the glorious pheromones as his tail prodded Johnbo’s hand, guiding it towards his hard but small organ. He found the small hollow where he knew his knot would rest and stroked it as the hobbit almost sobbed. It tried to close in on his tongue but Johnbo’s body wasn’t quite ready for that yet, even though he begged Smauglock. There were now things about his body that Smauglock had discovered and he hadn’t and Smauglock moved his tongue out, not leaving, only to plunge it back in. Johnbo was on the edge of pleasure pain, he was burning from the tongue and for it but the stimulation had been enough for him, in a few pumps, he was spurting all over his fingers and still the tongue didn’t leave his hole till he was licked clean and not a drop of fluid was left. And then his tiny hand was cleaned in one swipe as Johnbo rested his head against the dragon’s large one.

“Better?” Smauglock sounded weak and wanting, even in his head, and Johnbo nodded although he was starting to feel the tension in his belly again. He retrieved his pants and put them on, trying to ignore the dragon’s giggling fits at the sight of the red underpants that he had tried to hide (and failed miserably). They itched and seemed harsh against his abused hole that was already starting to generate fluids again. Scowling as he rubbed his face against the dragon’s scales, he gave him a small kiss, taking one last look at the moon as they took flight again. 


	6. Chapter 6

Johnbo was asleep again, snoring lightly and dreaming about…food. Of course, he wasn’t hungry but hobbits seldom dreamt of anything except food and comfortable beds. Smauglock tried very hard not to smile every time the hobbit let out a light snore or muttered in his sleep, drooling over the dragon’s blue scales that seemed cerulean in the flashing darkness, a calm sea rippling with shapes and colours that never stopped fascinating Johnbo. He had spent the entire trip stretching his hands in front of him, watching the dance of lights on his fingertips and laughing loudly as Smauglock shot jets of fire at random space flotsam for his amusement.

Johnbo had no idea how much he ached to touch him, to bury himself deep inside him and be rocked to sleep. It was primal and basic and he was an alpha, his body was trained to respond to these baser instincts. If it were anyone else, Johnbo would have been ravaged by now. He smelled so utterly delicious, first heats weren’t any easier on the alphas because of the constant influx of pheromones in their senses, the debilitating need to ensure that their omega was safe and sound, all of this could be quite overwhelming, especially for virgin alphas. But it required the steely determination and the will power of a dragon, Smauglock wondered about Omegas that didn’t have dragon alphas. The alphas cared but in the raging battle of lust and concern, lust always triumphed and even though they cared for their omega after the veil lifted, it could never undo the pain and harsh handling. Smauglock shuddered at the thought, he would never let anyone handle Johnbo that way, never ever. And he moved faster, not requiring flapping his wings now and simply gliding as he reached the burning orange star at the distance, its last few breaths making it brighter than the brightest of suns, the dying flames consuming anything that moved closer to it.

“Wake up,” Smauglock nudged Johnbo as he landed down on a lone moon, it was made of a smooth purple marble and was huge in size.   
“Wha- where are we?” Johnbo rubbed his eyes as he dropped down, stomach churning uncomfortably as his feet hit the ground. He was still a bit amazed at being able to breathe and so, he took in huge gulps of air as Smauglock pointed at the burning glow quite far off.  
“Are you going to do it then?” the hobbit could barely see the pinprick glow but he knew it was very far and if his hobbit’s eyes could be any judge, very powerful. It seemed fitting, Smauglock wouldn’t just choose any dying star. But it worried him, he didn’t know anything about these things but it was surely no walk in the Shire.

“I’ll be fine, don’t you worry. Just stay here and take this,” he handed Johnbo a bowl of water and emptied a drop of something clear in it. Immediately, the hobbit could see them both, peering over the bowl.  
“What is this?” Johnbo gasped, turning his head and wriggling his feet to see what he looked like.  
“It’s a Palantír. Not very powerful but I made it myself, it only works for us. Only you can look into it and you would see nothing but me. It was an-” the dragon grinned sheepishly as Johnbo quirked an eyebrow at him, nodding to tell him that he didn’t need to explain.

“Be safe.” Johnbo called as Smauglock didn’t wait for goodbyes and launched into the sky, not looking back, the thumping of Johnbo’s heart thudding in his ears, growing fainter as the gravity from the dying star broached their connection. He could see Johnbo sitting on the purple ground, his knees drawn up as the effects of the potion totally wore off and the desire to peel his clothes away overtook him.

He reached the star in a few minutes, time ticking faster as the dying lord sucked every bit of reality around it.   
“Kaladin, I am Smauglock the dragon,” it was customary for the dragons to introduce themselves, the stars were Gods for dragons and they had to be treated rightly, even if they were a crumbling God. Smauglock felt a sharp pain in his senses, like a knife had been plunged on him, needle swords penetrated his very vision but it wasn’t a physical assault, more like a mental one. For a second, Smauglock couldn’t breathe as his very skull seemed to crack under the strain of the assault, and then the star spoke. It spoke from inside him, the sound reverberated from his very ribs.  
“Smauglock, I am dying. Are you here to save me?” the star replied, and without waiting for an answer, let out a low whistle that soon turned into a terrible wail and the pain that threatened to blind the dragon, trickled out of him in short gasps, leaving him mentally shaken.  
“Yes. I will save you and keep you inside me, for eternities to come. It is not immortality that I grant you but a few million years, which shall seem like seconds to you. I shall mould you into fire and I shall command you as a friend. Would you be agreeable to that?”

The orange glow from the star turned bright red and then tungsten white, blinding everything in its wake, shattering the very darkness of the skies around it as it signalled its assent and Smauglock rose up, almost guided by the star to its centre and took a gargantuan breath, steadying himself as he let out a thin stream of blue fire that ran in a curved path around the star, knocking everything away in its wake and containing all the energies inside its locus as the stream joined its beginning, forming a perfect circle around Kaladin.

Smauglock kept exhaling, and soon a cobweb of brilliant blue flames seemed to form around the star, a perfect sphere that closed in, slowly, trapping the energy as the dragon strained under the effort of not breaking the stream, his throat clenching around the dryness inside him. The wait wasn’t long and Kaladin was pliant as the size of the sphere seemed to reduce and the blue of the fire turned to bright sapphire before becoming white and then, a stream of red flowed into it. The fire was travelling back to its source which was Smauglock’s belly, orange turning the crimson of red as the sphere now glowed like a small fiery sun, a clot of tangerine plasma that could now shrink no more. Somewhere, Johnbo stared into the Palantír and shuddered in anticipation and worry alike. As Kaladin let out a shriek, a final surrender, Smauglock opened his mouth wide and the small jet of blue flame tugged at the ball, the centre of gravity shifting and beckoning it in. The star hovered inches away from the dragon’s mouth before it plunged in and the dragon gagged, eyes streaming.

Smauglock could feel the burning path of the star, it was worse than any fire experienced by dragons on earth, fiery than the more fiery of hearts, brittle than the most brittle of rocks as the little ball burst into atom sized shards that invaded his body from the inside, diving into his senses as Smauglock curled in on himself, his jaw closing in on the tip of his tail as he drifted in a small circle, slow at first and faster later. And then, as the last bit of energy was absorbed by his blood, he let out a huge roar and his body stood taut like a string for a moment, shivering terribly before his blue scales shone as bright as Kaladin’s last spark and started slowly detaching off his body, peeling off him at an aching speed. This was something Smauglock hadn’t expected and so, he stood there in wonder as pieces of him, sapphire blue seemed to be made of nothing but light, circled around the place where the star had been and joined together into a glowing blue ball of light. The transformation started as soon as it had begun, there were no fireworks to welcome the new Dragonlord but a strangely curious dragon who felt no different from the inside. But there was something else, a voice.

Smauglock couldn’t make out what it was saying. Perhaps it was the last of the consciousness of the dying star. As he remembered his companion who was waiting for him on the purple moon, possibly forgetting his own body in the hysteria of the traditional coming-of-age, Smauglock felt his wings unfurl behind him and took flight. His body seemed more agile, lighter on the inside but a bit heavier on the outside. He wanted to know how he looked because even though he would never admit it, Smauglock loved the blue scales he had and the stripe of silver on his neck. He was also a bit wary of Johnbo’s reaction, there were so many questions running through his mind and that voice, it was still screaming, strangely. It shouldn’t have for now it was safe. As Johnbo hovered into view, Smauglock closed his eyes and tried to understand the voice. It was involuntary, not that the star could control it but it seemed like it was doing everything it could to do it.

_He will burn you, he will burn the heart of you._ Smauglock didn’t understand those words, maybe the star was rambling but something is his heart said that it wasn’t.

  
“You look fine,” came a familiar voice into his head and he had never been gladder to hear the gentle sound of Johnbo, smiling at a distance as he sat naked with the Palantír resting on his lap. A few seconds later, the dragon was there, landing gently next to his lover and getting the most delightful little gasps from his hobbit. He found out that his scales were now of a deep crimson shade and his wings had flecks of gold on the edges. However, his silver patch on the neck was gone, replaced by more crimson and orange.

“You look more…grumpy,” Johnbo laughed as Sherlock examined himself in the Palantír and grimaced. This would take some getting used to, it wasn’t like he hated it or anything but it did make him look sort of…angry and arrogant. There was this other thing nagging at the back of his head, the changes in his human form. Johnbo had quite seemed to like the way he looked as a human and he prayed to all the deities that he didn’t believe in for it to remain unchanged.   
“It’s okay, I don’t care,” Johnbo was getting as good in reading him as ever as the dragon nodded and transformed. It seemed slower than usual but maybe it was because his body was a bit heavier and there was more to change. Anyways, the transformation left him leaning over Johnbo for support as he let the hobbit’s eyes run over him for a second and then a reassuring smile crept back on his lips.

“No change, except that maybe your hair looks deep crimson in the light, still black though. And you have a tail now,” Smauglock had noticed that, obviously but he seemed to like that. He looked at himself from every angle, to the amusement and chagrin of a certain hobbit who was now even more impatient with the proceedings, Smauglock taking human form meant that whatever self-control the hobbit had was being shaken and crumbled to dust as his hands found themselves circling the dragon’s neck and pulling him down for a searing kiss.

And suddenly the kiss broke, not the gentle gasping break that they took to breathe, the hobbit was yanked off his arms and Smauglock snarled as he look around, his tail swishing menacingly behind him as Johnbo was dragged further away from him by an invisible force.

A black smoke was slowly taking shape, approaching them as Smauglock lunged and grabbed a scared Johnbo back into his arms, gently kissing his head and stroking his back to calm his omega down. His alpha’s instincts were tingling and he was going back to his dragon form again but he wrapped his tail securely around Johnbo who held on to him tightly, fear oozing from every pore of his skin and cutting straight through the lovely pheromones. As they looked into the distance, the smoke cleared and there stood a lean black dragon with a silver neck, smiling mockingly at the hobbit but there was disgust deep into his eyes that Smauglock could almost taste.

“Sorry to break into your party, boys. But you know what they say, you take my bounty and I take yours, eh? Oh, sorry, forgot to introduce myself. I am Lord Mordoriarty. Hi!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There might be a bit of noncon, but I'm not really sure at the moment. Thank you for leaving reviews and please let me know if there is a typo or error somewhere :)
> 
> xoxo  
> Meow


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one with the first heat and Mordoriarty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so terribly sorry for the late updation. Have been dealing with so much lately and my depression has fuelled my writer's block further. Apologies, this chapter is the longest of any I have written so for and I hope you like it. :)

 

“Oh dear, you don’t seem too happy to see me. Nor does your…ah, hobbit!” The distaste was back in his voice but it was carefully shrouded by the sheer madness the dragon seemed to be made of. He was thriving with this energy that Smauglock recognised as the energy of a new chase, the rush and of course, the pheromones did fuel it further as Mordoriarty licked his lips and smiled widely at both of them. His eyes glinted green in the lightless dark around them and the very darkness seemed to seep into their skins, making Smauglock’s stomach lurch uncomfortably. It was fear, there was fear covering them from all sides and Smauglock felt something move but he dared not look away from the dragon who was now chasing his own tail and cackling madly above them.

“Put your clothes on, quick,” Smauglock’s voice muttered in Johnbo’s head as the dragon rubbed his face over his chest out of age old alpha instincts.  
“Oh, no need, no need. The view is…great like this, Johnny boy.” Mordoriarty had stopped spinning in circles and was now staring at Johnbo, his eyes roaming up and down his body. He turned his head to Smauglock and smiled, “Yes, I can do it too. Are you surprised?”

The glee was chilling and Smauglock’s tail tightened its grip around Johnbo’s ankles as he shuffled inside his clothes. The hobbit was shaking and the smouldering touch of Smauglock’s tail wasn’t helping matters at all. As soon as he put his pants on, they got soaked in an instant, a fact which both Smauglock and Mordoriarty noted and which made the latter giggle very hard.

“Take him!” Mordoriarty’s face looked frozen with the same mad smile but his eyes were mirthless and cold as misshapen forms surrounded Smauglock and Johnbo. Darkness closed in on them, the kind that makes its presence felt tangibly. Smauglock’s tail let go of Johnbo’s ankle on its own accord and Johnbo was dragged away from him, his scream inside Smauglock’s head.

“Let him go!!” he snarled as he tried to thrash around but invisible ropes seemed to hold him in place. Mordoriarty glided around, humming to himself and enjoying the screaming and the thrashing. After a while, they gave up. They had to, it was no use. Mordoriarty was clearly much more powerful than Smauglock or perhaps, any dragon Smauglock had ever seen. He tried to communicate it to Johnbo but then he saw the dark shapes that were holding him down.

He had no idea what the things were but there was something terrible about their faces. He could barely see the light in their eyes but the fire in their hearts was stronger than his. They were misshapen dragons, or were some cross breed with the trolls, Smauglock conceded. The moment he thought about it, Mordoriarty let out a low, appreciative whistle.

“That was quick, darling, but no. These are my children. They are all made by me and from me. Now, clever that you are, you must be wondering about me and my empire, how we came to be and why we did. I’ll tell you everything, love. After all, you did consume that star and some reward is due.” The patience and sweetness in his voice was maddening.

“I am Lord Mordoriarty and I am the lord of the Earth Above. Your brother knows about me, dear old Mycroloft. While the elders believed me to be dead, he never gave up his search for me, I still find his minion or two lurking about, breathing and polluting my air. They banished me from Earth, banished me because I was better, because I knew what ruling people meant. I didn’t mean to cause any harm, I was just bored. But you understand that, don’t you? You know how terrible boredom can be, how utterly nerve-wracking to sit there and watch your brain rust audibly. I have heard about you, Smauglock, the tales of your wrath have reached me as well. But it is such an honour to finally meet you. You are so like me and the best part is, you don’t even know it. But I’ll make sure you do, oh yes. I will take care of that one little problem, our problem, the final problem.”

He met Smauglock’s glasz eyes with his dead black ones and at that moment, Smauglock knew that they were in terrible danger.

“Anyways, I digress. Since they couldn’t defeat or destroy me, they sent me up here, hoping that the lack of company and life would slowly kill my brain until I was nothing but a shell of my former black self. How terribly sad their minds are, how placid and boring. If I had to die, if I really wanted to stop existing, I would have done it a long time ago. And to leave me here, where hundreds of stars died every day, where they were giving me a battleground scattered with dead bodies to use at my leisure, it was the best thing I could ask for.”

“I waited for a long time, for a friend to come looking for me. All my little, evil-minded buddies, sitting down there and hoping for me not to find them. I dared to hope that at least one would be loyal enough to come look for their master. No one did, except one. And that was all I needed. We found stars, weak stars that had lived their share of the millennia and we killed them. Two strong and wayward dragons… Oh Smauglock, you can’t imagine the fun when you feel those stars fighting back for dominance. Our Gods of paper burning merrily inside us, such awful fun…” For a second, he looked as if he was reliving those moments and a shudder ran through him, hinting that it probably wasn’t as fun as he claimed it to be.

“So, I used these stars and my own fire to create these Dragorcs. Of course, the little filthy burning balls of gases did a little trick and ruined their faces and their bodies but their strength is that of dragons much older and their fires blacker than any night. They have no hearts and so, the stars that are in constant battle inside them, fighting even at their weakest, never affect them. Not like you and the others who have such love and hope in their eyes. Ah, it is heart-warming…”

His gaze had stayed transfixed at a distant point in space but now it flickered with life again, nodding towards Johnbo who had stood there transfixed, wanting nothing more but to go back home now. It all felt like a dream, those Dragorcs with their hands as light as shadow but their breaths weighed down on his heart. It was like being possessed by sheer hopelessness he could almost hear the battles raging inside their heartless bodies. To think that, a while ago, he had been ecstatic with joy and  looking forward to spending a few days celebrating it. It all seemed like someone else’s story, like the things people read to get their minds off the harsh truth of reality.

Smauglock could sense every little emotion that his hobbit was feeling and it pained him to have put them both in danger. But now was not the time to despair. Smauglock had to find a way out of this. He scanned the shadows for some gaping flaw, somewhere he could escape from but it was futile. He could barely see Johnbo and that was only because the hobbit was sniffing quietly. He turned around and saw Mordoriarty watching him, the same smile on his face but now challenging.

“Hope, alas, shall be your undoing, Smauglock. There is no trick you can play on me and my army to sneak away. There are no trees to hide behind, no earth to dig deep into. That is the beauty of this place, it is vast and expansive. And transparent. I can see the move of every little rock that floats here, watch luminescent gases float into each other and become something else. I am like a huge spider at the centre of a web and I know every little quiver; nothing escapes me. Gets tiring after a while, to tell you the truth but yes, the place has its own uses. Now, about your hobbit…” He clicked his claws and the Dragorcs brought a fighting Johnbo to him.

“Don’t you dare touch him. If you do any-” his voice was cut short by raucous grunting all around him which made Mordoriarty smile but not without irritation.  
“Be nice to our guests, boys. Where are your manners? I’ll take the hobbit, thank you.”

Johnbo wasn’t thrashing anymore and that pricked Smauglock more than the fear. The hobbit looked tired and lifeless, he met Smauglock’s eyes and they both knew what was going to happen but Smauglock wasn’t ready to admit it. He wouldn’t let anyone touch Johnbo. He had promised to protect him from all harm, promised to take care of him. Mordoriarty watched him impassively as he shrunk back to his human form. He had black, greasy hair pulled back and a dragorc quickly robed him, his hands moving reverently down his master’s body that made Smauglock’s skin itch. But Mordoriarty seemed to enjoy it immensely as he lightly petted the dragorc and Smauglock was unfortunate enough to hear him keen under his master’s fingers.

“Let’s see, you are a pretty little thing, Johnbo. And you smell _so_ good, gosh, if I didn’t have an iron control and utmost respect for you, I would have taken you right here.” Smauglock felt himself burn with a rage fiercer than ever before. He roared angrily and tried to burn his ropes, but nothing happened.

“Fire is not your most formidable ally up here, Smauglock. Don’t be boring, please, I beg you. Entertain me and I swear I will let you and your plaything leave. Unharmed. You have my word.” He made a solemn face and made a mock gesture of crossing his heart.

“Your omega’s in heat, Smauglock. He starves for your touch, _any_ touch. Why don’t you be a lamb and make love to him? We don’t get many performers up here and I’m sure my children would love it, won’t you boys?” The grunting sounded ecstatic and depraving, and Smauglock wanted to crush every throat it was uttered from.

“I won’t ever… how dare you!! Let us go and no one gets hurt, Mordoriarty. Let us go and I’ll let you live.” There was a roar of laughter around him and Mordoriarty joined them in, cackling louder as if he was just getting the joke. He met Smauglock’s eyes and with one swift motion, pulled down Johnbo’s pants. Now, the hobbit started thrashing again as he burrowed his nose on the juncture of Johnbo’s neck and shoulder and took a deep rattling breath, eyes closing in bliss. His erection responded immediately to it and he licked the spot once, twice, and looked up at Smauglock to gauge the response his little act was generating.

What he saw made him smile, the first real smile on his face in a long _long_ time. Smauglock looked horrified and afraid. The anger had melted away and for once in his life, he didn’t know what to do. The brain he was so proud of was tearing itself to pieces. The last of his resolve shook when Mordoriarty gently trailed the fluid dripping between Johnbo’s thighs with two fingers and brought them to his lips. He sucked on his digits and an expression of pure bliss replaced everything on his face. He heard Johnbo and looked towards him; the hobbit was pleading and shaking with soft sobs.

“ _Please, Smauglock. Please. I can’t… it’s too much. Please, make it stop. Please-”_

“Okay,” Smauglock heard himself say and Mordoriarty opened his eyes and smiled, taking his fingers out and wiping them on his robe.

“The fun thing would be for me to refuse now, tell you that I have changed my mind, that your omega is too, ah, delicious to be let go. But I am not cruel, Smauglock and anyways, it would be more fun for me like this. See, I want to tell you that I mean you no harm and we can be friends. I understand how much you _love_ this hobbit. The pleasure of that knowledge is much more than any other pleasure I might receive from this creature.”

And at that moment, the entire scheme clicked in Smauglock’s head. Johnbo was a tool, a tool to Smauglock and through him, Middle Earth. The reign of the dragons would end and a new breed of dragorcs would take over. Stars would no longer be worshipped but Mordoriarty would be the new God. He felt helpless because his emotions had betrayed him and he had given Mordoriarty a tool more powerful than anything else in the world. The worst thing was that he could do nothing to undo the damage.

They landed on the same moon and Smauglock noticed that a thin atmosphere encased the moon like an atmosphere. He was curious as to how the dragon had gone about doing it but at that precise moment, Mordoriarty let go of Johnbo with irksome gentleness as he and his shadows stood 30 feet over them in a circle. Relief broke inside him in waves as Johnbo practically knocked him down, hugging him hard and kissing whatever part he could reach and Smauglock inhaled the familiar scent of home and Johnbo. The true measure of how scared you are is realised when the moment has passed, when happiness replaces the absence of fear. In that second, watching Johnbo peel his clothes off as quickly as he could, Smauglock thought about how scared he had been, how utterly helpless.

“I’m sorry. I just wanted it to be special and exciting for you… for us.” He murmured as he buried his face on the spot where Mordoriarty had been a few minutes (or was it ages?) ago and sucked at it, marking his mate for life as Johnbo moaned and fisted his fingers in Smauglock’s hair. The hobbit ran his hands gently over his back and whispered that it was okay and it was fine now. Though they both knew it wasn’t. They will have to come back to reality in a while, and Smauglock knew there were a hundred creatures above them, noticing their every move and deriving some perverse pleasure out of it and it made him shudder to think what would happen after this. Would they separate them forcibly after he had knotted his mate?

“Hey, look at me. For some time, just forget about them.” Johnbo kissed him on the forehead. “Forget that we’re being watched,” he gave him a chaste kiss on the mouth, “forget that we might get captured,” he invaded Smauglock’s mouth with his tongue and revelled under the familiar scent, his scent, their scent. He licked the inside of his cheek and his alpha’s hands ran down his back, “forget that we might die because” Smauglock moaned and Johnbo swallowed it all as he whispered, “I love you and there isn’t a better time for us to remember that.”

And they did exactly that. They almost forgot that they were in mortal danger as their minds went back to the lair, their home, where they’d spent countless hours kissing and mapping each other’s mouths, where Smauglock had, on so many occasions, wanted to peel those layers of clothes from Johnbo’s body, and just sit there and learn every little scar and freckle. Smauglock realised with glee that did not need to will away his erection this time and almost snorted in Johnbo’s mouth, which made the latter slap his behind. His tail curled around the small wrist and stroked the inside of the palm as his mouth couldn’t have enough of Johnbo.  
  
“I want you inside me right now,” he whispered almost shyly and there was some wicked whistling from somewhere above which brought them both back to reality. Smauglock flipped Johnbo over and the hobbit raised his rear up, his face buried in Smauglock’s cloak who had crawled down between his legs. Kissing the back of his knees and peppering his thighs with soft and harsh bites, Smauglock licked his way up to his hole, remembering how much the hobbit had liked it before. It did seem like a lifetime ago that he had spoken to a star and shed his former self.

Johnbo was very ready and his thighs were wet with Smauglock’s tongue running all over them, filing the taste and scent of his mate in a special corner of his mind mountain. He gently separated Johnbo’s cheeks apart and saw the puckered entrance. Experimentally bringing his tongue out, he licked a huge swipe across it and Johnbo made a strangled noise.  
“What are you doing? Stop teasing me, Smauglock!” Smauglock had a feeling he would have slapped him across the face if he wasn’t so turned on by the act.  
  
Bless Mycroloft, Smauglock thought to himself. Admitting his brother knew something that he didn’t irked Smauglock but his envy dissipated quickly as he tried it again and Johnbo almost sobbed out of pleasure. Making a mental note to thank his brother later and trying to forget his own red faced embarrassment when he had had the misfortune of discussing this with him, Smauglock traced the rim experimentally and covered it with his mouth. Johnbo pushed back against it and his broken moans were cheered heavily by the crowd above. When Smauglock had done this before, it had been nice but it had also hurt. Johnbo tried to recall the slight burning but his mind supplied him with none, insisting that he push towards the tongue.

Smauglock then plunged his tongue in without warning, and Johnbo started sobbing in earnest as he wriggled it and reached to the front to gently fondle his erection while his own lay neglected. Dragon tongues were comparatively longer than human tongues, also, they had more control over it than others. Stiffening his tongue and thrusting, he rolled Johnbo’s balls in his hands and played with them. The hobbit muttered something like he was ready and Smauglock wrapped his hand around his erection, working his tongue harder and deeper into him.

A few tugs later, Johnbo was coming hard in his fist and Smauglock stayed there for a while, enjoying the pulsing and wetness on his hand which he later cleaned with his tongue in front of a now blushing hobbit. Reaching up to kiss the back of his neck, he wrapped himself all around his omega as Johnbo gently rocked in his arms. His erection was almost hurting him now but he knew that the heat would be on them again. In all the rush of hormones, some distant voices seemed inconsequential and unimportant.

Slowly, Johnbo started coming around again. His hips moved rhythmically and even though his eyes were closed and he was almost asleep, he started rubbing the crack of his arse against Smauglock’s erection as the dragon turned him around to kiss him hard. There was no gentleness in the way he trapped Johnbo’s lips in his own warmer ones and old alpha instincts made him make clearer the spot he had marked before on his omega’s neck.

“I want to see your face when I knot you.” Johnbo could merely moan in response as Smauglock put his leg over his waist and lined himself against the hole. His heart was beating hard as he entered Johnbo cautiously and buried himself inch by inch inside his omega until he was balls deep inside him. The tightness was overwhelming as he searched Johnbo’s face before moving out almost as carefully as he had entered him.

“Oh harder, you won’t break me!” And so Smauglock did. He came out smoothly and entered Johnbo in one unfaltering motion as the hobbit arched in his arms, digging his heels at his sides and baring his neck for Smauglock to suck on. He was pretty sure he would have marks on his back, right under his wings where Johnbo’s nails were digging into him. He brought his wings to the front to cover them both and some loud and angry hooting ensued from up above, but he didn’t care. Not at that moment.

“How- How does it feel, oh god you feel so good!” The dragon gasped as Johnbo nodded and he moved slowly out, only to thrust back in again. Once he began, it was difficult to stop and after a while, he felt the pressure building as his knot began to swell inside Johnbo. It was as if his heart would stop and break into a thousand pieces and Johnbo felt his own body shudder to the last nerve to make way for the knot to stay inside him. Johnbo made a pained noise as Smauglock breathed heavily and felt the energy getting sucked out of him.

“Yes, it’s alright, look at me,” Johnbo whispered, kissing his brow and brushing away the crimson black hair from his eyes.  
“Just let go,” he murmured, and brought both their hands to wrap around his own erection between them. As Smauglock felt his knot swell and pop inside Johnbo, the hobbit sobbed and pumped both their hands harder.

“Does it hurt?” Smauglock really was out of breath. It was usual it to hurt a little for omegas when they were knotted but it would have been harder for Johnbo because Smauglock was a dragon. In his human form, yes, but that didn’t diminish the fire of his release and this was Johnbo’s first knotting, so it wasn’t any easier. There were reasons why inter-species mating wasn’t more common and a hobbit-dragon alliance was totally unheard of. He shuddered to imagine what their children would be like, if they had any, the possibility of which was bleak.

“You’re in your head again,” Johnbo kissed him as his release covered them both. The pressure of it milked Smauglock’s knot and he felt the hobbit’s kisses on his neck. It was usual for alphas to console omegas or so he had heard but at this point, it seemed to Johnbo that Smauglock needed him more as another orgasm rocked his body and they rode through it together, knotted on an unknown moon with a new breed of creatures looking over them.

“I love you,” Smauglock whispered as the last of his orgasms shook them and left him drained. Johnbo wrapped himself tightly around Smauglock as his knot slowly went down. They remained like that for a long time, even after Smauglock had gone soft. Johnbo was snoring lightly, his face tucked under Smauglock’s chin. The dragon was reminded of home again, of the first time he had held Johnbo and fought those two alpha dragons, and the first time he had kissed Johnbo. His wings drew up around both of them possessively. The hobbit looked so satiated and carefree and Smauglock wanted no one to look at him like this. So, he tucked him back under his chin and buried his nose in his hair, feeling quite sleepy himself.

“Oh, that was a wonderful show, Smauglock. Well done, indeed. Couldn’t have done it better myself. Well, _I_ could but you know what I mean, don’t you,” Mordoriarty was back but his shadows had stayed up. He was still in his human form and Smauglock’s wings wrapped closer to a stirring Johnbo as Mordoriarty hovered closer to them.

“Oh no, we’re leaving now. We’ve had enough fun… _for now._ You and your lovely omega can spend your heat in peace on this moon, and then leave for your beloved earth. However, it was very nice meeting you, Smauglock. I will meet you again, quite soon actually. Give my love to Mycroloft and do tell him what a nice boy you have been.” He spared them one more glance and with that, the dragon snapped his fingers and his shadows scattered around, leaving darkness and fear in their wake as Smauglock wondered what exactly had happened but was distracted as Johnbo’s hands made their way between his legs. All was forgotten, at least for now.

  
***

 

While the journey to the Earth Above had been great, it was quieter on their way back. They had eaten and were physically strong but their hearts thudded hard in the deceitful quiet. Earlier, they had been sure that they were alone and breaking the quiet had been easy, almost rebellious, but now they knew they weren’t and it wasn’t a solace. Every little sound made Johnbo’s ears prick and he could feel the white noise in Smauglock’s head come to a standstill. They didn’t even talk that much because one of them would abruptly stop talking in the middle and that made the fear almost too real to be bearable, somehow. And so, they travelled back quietly.

Johnbo saw the same cluster of stars again and failed to replicate the happiness he had felt before. Suddenly, it seemed like the shadows hadn’t gone away but had stayed within them. The hobbit’s life hadn’t been particularly bad but he had seen his share of bad things in the world. After being separated from his family it was his heart that had kept him going. All the warmth of the good things he had seen, the belief that every creature had some good in him and trust in his own instincts had made him what he was. Plus luck. Johnbo would have been lying if he said that he didn’t believe he was lucky because he was. Luckier than most other slaves, although he didn’t know how far that luck would hold.

Smauglock’s head was quiet for once. While he didn’t particularly enjoy the commotion of his own thoughts, at this time, anything would have been welcome. Johnbo was still and he could feel his little palms stroke him gently whenever they heard a noise. Maybe it was to calm the dragon down or perhaps, it was to make himself feel better. Whatever the reason was, Smauglock felt better every time Johnbo did that. He would be foolish to assume that this encounter would not leave scars on both of them, that they would forget it soon. He knew that as soon as they did, it would start again. Perhaps, really soon or so Mordoriarty had promised. His very name seemed to be tainted with evil. And yet, Smauglock was intrigued by him, by his identity. If he was true to himself, he was a bit impressed too. Impressed by the dragon’s will to live and his mind. Smauglock had never praised people for their intellect because he had never met anyone who was smarter than him. All this time, Mordoriarty had been up here, fighting god knows what, breeding his army and slowly plotting his revenge. How hard it must have been, to be abandoned like that? What was Mycroloft thinking and why had Smauglock never known about this.

Mycroloft and Smauglock hadn’t been particularly close all their lives but his brother had always consulted him about threats. He had valued Smauglock’s judgment and insight. And yet, such a huge threat had been looming over them and he hadn’t made one mention of it. Why? This baffled Smauglock more than anything else. Perhaps Mordoriarty was wrong, his brother had stopped looking for him as well, given up. It was unlike Mycroloft to do that but given the situation, Smauglock was pretty sure that was what had happened. Also, Smauglock realised guiltily, handling him hadn’t been easy. He had taken his brother’s attention off important things like these.

“It’s not your fault,” Johnbo’s voice was gentle in his head and he almost hugged the dragon’s neck.  
“It is a bit,” he couldn’t keep the ache out of his voice and Johnbo kissed his crimson scales.  
  
“Your brother has the most organised mind in all the dragons I have met. And I include you in this as well. You are brilliant, absolutely terrific in whatever you do and create. But organisation is something you have never followed or required. Your brother has elevated that to an art. Oh, don’t make that face, love, you know I’m right. All I’m saying is, if he gave up on looking for Mordoriarty, it was because of his own judgment and nothing you did or could have done would have prevented it.”

Smauglock nodded, agreeing. They were still a few earth sunsets away from home and he had never wanted to go back to a place this hard. He missed it terribly, he missed the waking up in the morning and the smell of stew. He missed missing his meals and arguing with Johnbo. He missed the gilded ceiling and more than that, he missed watching his mate sleep staring at it. It was their own little bit of heaven and even if it wasn’t one of the best lairs, it was still better than most.

Johnbo put his forehead against the scales and closed his eyes. He was tired and while he had kissed Smauglock’s troubles away, his own were far from over.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter would be updated pretty soon. I was going to add it to this one but I thought that I'd post this and add a shorter next chapter in a week or so. Please please leave reviews to let me know that you are enjoying it, or if there is something that's missing, and I'll try to fix it :)


	8. Chapter 8

They came back when the evening was just falling and a few stars peeked out in a delight that was almost obscene, given the situation, unaware that their lights reached no one, unaware that they were in terrible danger. Middle Earth was a huge contrast from the Earth Above. It was noisy, even the wind screeched at the quietest of times. Little dust flew across the faces of Middle Earthians as they left for homes. Darkness was not good, not even on Middle Earth.

However, Johnbo and Smauglock were unconscious of the beauty of the world they belonged to. Nothing mattered, not the pain in Smauglock’s wings from not stopping even for a second, not the rash on Johnbo’s exposed skin because of his slightly ripped pants, nothing at all. After a while, they stopped twitching at every sound the forests made, the beautiful hustle and bustle of a busy world granted them some solace from their trauma.

Just the air and the warmth were enough for Smauglock to feel at home, his eyes scanning everything in quiet concentration. But Johnbo, he was lost. When Smauglock’s voice whispered in his mind, telling him that they were close to home, he got no reply but received a lung crushing blackness. The hobbit gently patted his scales before they landed at the mouth of the lair and gracefully slid off his back. Before Smauglock could comment on the angry burn at his exposed bottom, he had gone in to put the pots and pans to where they belonged.

Johnbo worked for hours, setting the place back in order. He scrubbed every inch of the lair, only talking to Smauglock when he couldn’t reach the higher places. His bones ached to sleep after their long journey but somehow, he had to finish this. In his head, it was necessary to just do it all and he would feel better, he just knew he would.

He was wrong.

The work ended and after they had eaten some warmed dry leftovers from their journey, Johnbo slumped down on the hay. His body hurt from within, his mind ached and even when he felt the slow tug of sleep in his eyes, he feared he would be wide awake for a long time.

After a while, Smauglock stopped engaging the hobbit into any conversations. While Johnbo slept in his earlier spot as a slave, yards away from Smauglock, the dragon worked to change the ceiling and put it in place. He brought the hobbit closer, his colour changed to sapphire and yet, it was as if something had broken between them. Something he might not be able to fix. The moment the thought entered his mind, he had the fierce urge to wreck some mountains or set fire to a distant town. Before he could take flight, the hobbit opened his eyes and sleepily crawled towards his dragon form.

“Go to sleep,” he whispered, the sand at the corner of his eyes glinting in the light of the moon. Smauglock shrank down to his human form under his little hands. No roar could break the deafening silence between them. If he thought that the night would be uneventful after this, he was mistaken.

Sometime before dawn and not quite the end of the night, his sleepless concentration was broken by sobbing and thrashing. Johnbo was clutching at him, almost hurting him as he thrashed in his sleep. He mumbled something in his chest, the voice barely leaving his lips. When Smauglock tried to wake him up, as gently as he could, he screamed words which made his nightmare as clear as the dying night.

“Shh, it’s alright. You’re here, we’re safe,” Smauglock murmured as strongly he could. His fears betrayed the confidence in his voice as Johnbo slowly woke up to scratches on the dragon’s front. His eyes were red and Smauglock swiftly pulled the hobbit over him, offering him some consolation from his embarrassment.

“I’m so sorry, Smauglock,” he wiped his face on Smauglock’s chest and looked up, fear in his eyes that hurt Smauglock more than anything else. He wanted to collect him in his arms and pull him up, and so he did. But when he leaned up to kiss him, Johnbo withdrew.

“Not now, I’m sorry.” He sounded resigned and the tiredness of the journey was finally catching up on him. So was the trauma.   
“Don’t you want me anymore?” Smauglock didn’t realise that he’d said it out loud.

Johnbo looked up again so quickly that Smauglock feared he’d hurt his neck.

“No!! Oh, I didn’t mean that. Why-”  
“It’s alright. I didn’t mean to imply that. It just… came out.”

Johnbo nodded, without offering any more explanations or waiting for some. He planted a kiss on his collarbone, signalling the end of their conversation. Smauglock knew when he was being dismissed, and so he buried his face in Johnbo’s hair that smelled of him, them and home. They didn’t need to talk about the nightmare. They didn’t need to talk about anything. If they opened their eyes, they would probably see their fears laughing in front of them, chasing their own tails.

 

***

_“He needs a distraction.”_  
“I don’t have anything that would interest him.”  
“I don’t know what to do. It has been 14 days. Mycroloft, you must do something!”  
“I’m sorry. Perhaps, until the next heat…”  
“This is not about that, ugh, your mind is down in the pits, Mycroloft. He barely talks. Or eats. I’m worried.”  
“This is one ailment not even an elf can aid you with, brother. It’s only up to you.”

Smauglock already knew this but the atmosphere in the lair seemed to be closing in on him. So, he quietly slipped out, feeling like a coward at wanting to escape, but not managing to go too far away for nothing felt safe, not even the world he belonged to. He perched himself on top of the mountain and scanned everything under him, cursing the very leaves and grounds for his dilemma. But, he had to return sometime.

He didn’t want Johnbo to wake up alone in the middle of another nightmare. That was one piece of information he had withheld from his brother, the rest he had laid out as honestly as he possibly could. He guess had been right, Mycroloft had given up looking for the Dragon. That’s how Smauglock referred to him in his head, not by his name but just as “the dragon”. To him, he was one dragon who had risen above everyone in his creed, it sounded like a salute and it was. Smauglock was ashamed to admit that, even to himself. After everything they had been put through, and even after the living proof of the injuries the dragon had inflicted on his mate, a part of Smauglock shuddered in appreciation to think about his mind, his craftiness.

He shrank back to his human form and straightened himself before entering the lair. As he pushed the light out of his eyes, darkness blinded him. The lair was enveloped in pitch darkness; you could step right in and get swallowed by it. He moved in the general direction of their sleeping spots and something crunched under his feet - _glass_.

“Johnbo?” he called out, not expecting a reply from the beckoning warm heap of limbs on the ground. He approached the stack and felt around with his hands, finding a naked shoulder, then running his hands down to the back and the gentle curve of Johnbo’s arse. He ran his scarred but warm palms up again, revelling in the art that was Johnbo’s body, slightly cold but still pliable, touch starved for 2 weeks now, and it gravitated towards his touch, shivers running down the spine.

“Do you want some tea?” Smauglock whispered, moving around to burn some light in the lair, only to find a hobbit scrunching his face against the hay.  
   
“No. My mind won’t stop spinning, Smauglock. I am going mad!” The last phrase was almost shouted in anguish and Smauglock pulled the body up to settle it in his arms, it flopped around limply and leaned against him, he could almost feel the tension in the bones under his fingers, rattling up and down his body as he stroked his back and tried to calm him down. In vain, everything. He had been trying for the past two weeks and Johnbo had, if possible, become worse.

These anger flares were something fairly new as well. They had started out as small and inconsequential irritations but now, Johnbo was just too frustrated and tired to even be angry. He was barely getting any sleep. He would lie awake for hours at night and all through the morning, not moving or making a sound, staring at the ceiling and Smauglock was sure he had memorised every bit of it a hundred times.

“Will you eat something?” he murmured, pushing his curly fringe back and planting a kiss on the forehead. Perhaps, he sounded tired. Maybe, he was even more battered than Johnbo. Smauglock didn’t even recognise his own voice anymore. Suddenly, the darkened lair seemed better for them and the light seemed to gnaw at his eyes.  
  
“I don’t need to eat, my head needs to stop hurting. It needs a distraction. I keep thinking about it, Smauglock. I lay awake for hours and go through every single thing over and over till I can feel him… them around me.” Johnbo tried to push away from the kiss, the softness of it annoyed him, it was useless, the subtle touches, the understanding nods reeked of condescension and yet, he knew that he was wrong and this was Smauglock, trying his best to help him out of it. But Smauglock, at that moment, was too predictable. He wasn’t equipped for these situations, of the bone splitting hatred and abhorrence that was causing such a caterwauling in his head, like he hadn’t been able to sleep since forever.

“I need you to eat. Johnbo, please. Mycroloft sent some food. Please eat.” He begged, almost sobbed and somewhere in his mind, the reversal of their situations tickled him. Johnbo relented, he made a face and he grunted in frustration with every morsel that was pushed into his mouth, but he chewed and he gulped and he whined more. When some stew dribbled down Johnbo’s chin, Smauglock licked it clean and Johnbo grumbled about his habits. And yet he ate, he ate everything he was fed, and some more. When Johnbo was fed and Smauglock was happy, he was kissed deeply, kissed with a mouth that tasted of wine and tea at the same time, something bitter and dark and very new. It was their first kiss in weeks and it seemed like ages. It was suddenly something novel, something that made Smauglock break the kiss and look at him questioningly.

And then Johnbo smiled. It was a smile he reserved for the moments when he beat Smauglock at something. Smauglock had only seen it twice before and at times like this, it made him blush furiously.

“Okay, first of all, we need a safeword for what we’re going to try.” Johnbo was business-like and excited, something Smauglock had missed in the past few weeks, missed more than anything. Smauglock being angry and moody was what this lair, their home, was used it. It was like the order of nature and Johnbo, his omega, suddenly taking charge reached him at places that hadn’t received any attention recently. The excitement, at this instance, rubbed off on him.

He shrugged his shoulders, “ _Stop_?”  
“No, no, something you wouldn’t normally say, something that would jolt us out.”   
“How about _Mycroloft_?” He suggested and got such a scathing look that Johnbo started giggling and Smauglock forgot his annoyance.   
“Mycroloft it is! Now, I think we’re going to enjoy this but just…let’s promise to use the safeword if we don’t. Okay?” Smauglock nodded, suddenly feeling nervous as Johnbo licked his lips and went to retrieve something from the packet the food from Mycroloft had come in.

Oh! _Oh!_ So, Mycroloft had sent help, after all. Smauglock felt a little something in his chest at the thought of Mycroloft and Johnbo talking about…things… like this behind his back but the hungry look Johnbo gave him when he turned around shot every thought out of his head as he was pinned down by an omega surprisingly strong for his size.

Johnbo pulled Smauglock towards himself, his back finding the wall as he felt the soft fabric shiver under his touch, kissing the mouth hungrily, demanding like he never had before, possessive tongue, nails running down the covered back, lightly pinching the weathers and going down until he could feel the warm naked skin flush under him as he sucked on the lower lip and snaked his hand under Smauglock’s robe, tracing the curve of the arse before he smacked the left one hard and Johnbo almost lost his breath in the delicious sound Smauglock made.

“Oh god, Johnbo, hell!” He fisted his hands in the hobbit’s robes and rested his forehead against Johnbo’s, a bit lost, a little found.   
“You like that, don’t you? I thought you would,” Johnbo gave the other cheek a squeeze, Smauglock had a surprisingly plush arse for such a lean body, and Johnbo loved to knead his hand into it or simply dig his fingers in when he kissed the impossible dragon. Those were better days, when they couldn’t touch each other but were still happy, and Johnbo still managed to steal moments like this before Smauglock could object.

“Do it again!” Smauglock ordered and Johnbo raised his eyebrow at him and replied, “No, you’ll do as I say,” saying which he climbed over their hay-bed and stretched his tiny legs in front of him, pointing at his lap.

And then it clicked in the genius’ brain and he did look genuinely surprised, but pleasantly so as he lay across his lap, arse in the air. Johnbo carefully pushed the robe up and looked at the beautiful sight presented to him on a platter. As Smauglock made an impatient sound, Johnbo fisted his right hand in his hair and yanked hard, silencing the dragon into a moan.

“Oh, you like that too?” Johnbo’s glee was apparent from his words as he combed his fingers through the tangled locks and murmured, “Do you know I served in the Dragon army for a while. Maybe, I could wear my uniform next time if you promise to be a bad dragon and let me spank-” his hand landed hard on the fleshiest part “-you!” he hit him again, just above the previous spot and Smauglock moaned shamelessly.

As he did it again and again, Smauglock worked out the pattern, so he changed it, he slapped him with waywardness, hitting the same spot twice once to which Smauglock rewarded him with a low deep whine and Johnbo could feel his alpha’s erection grow hard, trapped between them. It seemed to release something feral within him, something he wouldn’t normally want anyone to see. Omegas weren’t supposed to enjoy this, but neither were alphas.

Soon, his hands were aching and Smauglock’s arse was red, mottled with his slaps and yet, the dragon wanted more. It worried Johnbo a bit but he slowly pushed him off his lap, dragging his nail across a deep red blotch on his left cheek as he got up and Smauglock gasped, rutting against his leg and causing an angry welt across his thigh from the sheer fire of his leaking erection.

“No, not yet, love,” Johnbo called out as he got a whip out of his bag of tricks (gift from Mycroloft) and Smauglock raised his head to gulp audibly.   
  
“The safeword is _Mycroloft_. You remember, right?” He nodded, burying his face in the hay and fisting his hands in the sheet, expecting the blow. Johnbo rolled it around his palm and lashed softly against his thighs and then again, nearer to the top but harder. Smauglock started rutting again and Johnbo whipped the belt hard against his reddened cheeks, ordering him to stop.

“I need to come, Johnbo. Please,” Smauglock begged and it reached Johnbo’s groin as he put the belt aside and shucked his pants, lying next to his weeping alpha, facing that glorious arse. He traced a trail with the opposite end and slightly colder end of the whip from the crack of his arse to between his cheeks and Smauglock whimpered, trying to push back but held by Johnbo’s hands on his waist. When he gave an experimental lick, Smauglock gasped, spurring him on to spread him and lick a wet trail around his seething hot hole. He now knew why Smauglock had loved doing this to him.

He touched his lips to the flesh that was searing hot and sucked on a sweet spot, his tongue lapping soothingly and teasing his alpha into moaning.

“Johnbo, please…” it was beyond Johnbo’s imagination how much he was enjoying this, the drawing out of Smauglock’s orgasm and the sight of him begging. He knew that in the next few days, Smauglock would flinch every time he sat down and it would only be because of Johnbo, he parted the cheeks and licked the ring again, circling it with his tongue before he plunged right in and Smauglock became an incoherent mess of nothing. It felt hot, almost too hot but he got his tongue as deep as he could, drowning in the musk of Smauglock and everything Smauglock and let his hands slide down towards his alpha’s considerable erection. He felt fiery and was almost pulsating as Johnbo let him fuck his fist, his own need forgotten as he sucked on the hole and wriggled his tongue, remembering half memories from their better nights in the Earth above and Smauglock thrust in his hand with needy sounds. They both soon realised that one hand was not enough for Smauglock and Johnbo put the other one to help him out, barely containing him.

Soon after that, the dragon met his sweet release in his hands, shuddering with Johnbo’s name on his lips and coating his fist with his seed. Johnbo retrieved his mouth and rested his forehead against the still hot flesh, feeling his tongue positively burning inside his mouth. Slowly, Smauglock’s breathing calmed down and eventually evened out, so Johnbo snaked his hand down to take care of himself when a back-to-being-an-alpha voice almost snarled, “No, mine!” and Johnbo put his hands back to his sides, shifting to lay on his back and pushing his knees up.

“You do look absolutely delectable like this, you know that?” Smauglock smirked as he ran an appreciative eye over him, Johnbo was a little soft in the middle and Smauglock loved it. He had spent countless nights kissing every inch of that body, mapped the entire night sky in the sparse hair on that chest and crawled deep within his head when everything was too bright outside.

“That was exceptional, by the way,” Smauglock muttered as he pushed the knees apart and rubbed his mouth right between the legs, licking noisily, Johnbo liked to hear the sounds when he couldn’t see him and Smauglock sucked with just a hint of teeth, reaching under his balls as he felt Johnbo’s moan rather than hearing them. The world was right again. His tongue wrapped in tight circles around his flesh and as soon as Johnbo felt a familiar tension gather at the pit of his stomach, Smauglock withdrew and reached down with his mouth.   
  
“We could do that, you know. This is clearly-” he popped his ball in his mouth and rolled it around with his tongue before sucking the other one in as well with a glorious slurp, “-something you like, so do I. Johnbo, are you even listening?!” His mouth was back at the base of Johnbo’s erection, tracing the vein with his tongue and licking his way up.

“Yeah, we’ll talk about that after you’re done with…my thing, okay?” Johnbo managed as Smauglock pulled back the foreskin and tickled the frenulum with his tongue, throwing his speech right out into the mountain.  
“Thing? It’s a penis, Johnbo. Surely-”  
“I know! I’m aware, thank you. Now, no talking, get on with it.”  
“But it was one of your best ideas, I am merely congratulating you.” Smauglock stopped his licking and probing, and looked at Johnbo with a confused expression.

“Do.Not.Stop.Continue.We.Shall.Talk.After.I.Come.” Johnbo huffed as Smauglock popped the head in his mouth and sucked slowly.  
“Oh yes, yes!” He whimpered as Smauglock swallowed him in completely and hummed as the smaller organ could barely hit the back of his throat and Johnbo, after gently fisting his hand in Smauglock’s hair, thrust in his mouth, trying not to gag his alpha, now that he had stopped talking.  
  
Smauglock finished him off in a few bobs and Johnbo came screaming, spilling down his throat as Smauglock swallowed every drop and flopped next to him, wiping his mouth as he did so.

“Were you serious about the uniform thing?”  
“I was, do you like it?”  
“Hmm, yes, a lot! It’s strange that I, erm, I’m okay with this…thing… during… you know.”  
“Yes, not unheard of, though.”  
“What do you mean?”  
“I’ve seen plenty of alphas becoming submissive to their omegas, so I kind of expected that you’d like the pleasure-pain equation.”  
“You’ve “seen”?”  
“I’ve heard, oh stop it!”  
“Interesting.”  
“Can we sleep now, it’s late.”  
“Okay.”  
“Hmm, good night, love,” Johnbo turned around and let Smauglock curl behind him.   
“Johnbo?” Just as he was drifting off, Smauglock’s voice murmured close to his ear. He hummed in reply.  
“Why did you get angry when you were in my mouth?”  
“Tomorrow morning, I’ll do it to you and then you can tell me why. Okay?”  
“Is this an experiment?”  
“Yeah, you can make it one.”  
“Good. Go to sleep.”  
“Hmm.”  
“Can I also… do other things tomorrow? To you?”  
“We’ll see. Sleep well.”

That night, they slept without nightmares and sounds of cackling, without shadows in their dreams. However, the shadows grew above them, deeper than ever before. But for now, all was well. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry for taking so much time to update. Life really has caught up with me and well, I'm not doing as well as I should. If people are still following this story, thank you so much :)
> 
> xx  
> Meow


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is fluffy and sick!Smauglock, okay?

It first occurred to him a month ago, when he was kissing the softness out of that mouth and Johnbo keened under his warm buttery touches over his fingers, whispering ‘Smaug’ as he was gathered closer. When they emerged back to breathe, both breathless in the morning, he quietly chided Smauglock. “That was not a good morning kiss.”

So, it first occurred to him when this particularly lazy morning session of snogging became heated, when Smauglock became just Smaug, and it seemed simpler, needed even. And he whispered ‘John’, his warm breath tingling on Johnbo’s spine as he pulled him closer and turned his head to lap at the tell-tale mark on his neck.

The words sat so comfortably in their mouths, like an aftertaste of particularly good wine or a flippant idea in the mind, that Smauglock felt he was home at last. It wasn’t until he became Smaug and Johnbo became just John that Smauglock realized he wanted to hear Johnbo like that always, in sickness and in health, till death did them apart.

 

***

 

It had been almost 7 months since the ill-fated journey to the world above theirs. And little by little, no matter how frustrating it had been, they had picked up and reassembled the broken pieces of themselves and their relationship. And even though, every now and then, they realised that a small piece had been glinting unseen on the carpet, ready to prick their feet when they were just careless enough to forget, it was good and manageable, all things considered. But when Smauglock and Johnbo became Smaug and John, everything glued itself back in Smauglock’s head and he knew that he had to ask Johnbo.

 

***

 

The random bouts of aggression should have been the first clue for Smauglock but as always, he ignored them. He would be sitting around in the cave, working with a potions set that he had owned since he was a fledgling, and suddenly, he would feel it. It was like a thrumming, hot and fluid, that ran through his arm and created tremors as he placed the delicate instruments down and drank some water. There were also some instances where he felt anxious, like his heart was going to fall out, but those occurred when he was asleep and in the bright light of the morning, Smauglock would attribute the symptoms to the occasional nightmares he had been having. Once, he almost transformed into his new majestic form and devastated a previously untouched city, so terrible was the sudden rage he felt but Johnbo took that second to walk into the cave happily, a few supplies in his arm and an unheard song on his lips, and Smauglock forgot everything else. Soon, though, it manifested itself in the form of a sickness so terrible that it almost ended him.

 

***

  
Johnbo woke up to find Smauglock farther away at the end of their hay bed, curled in on himself. He looked so small, huddled over the scrunched up covers that were usually there for Johnbo, and breathing oddly. Johnbo tried to blink the night away from his eyes and turned around, sniffling in  half-sleep half-wakefulness and usually, this was the cue for Smauglock to gather him in his arms in the morning and coax him to stay in bed for a little while longer. It had almost become a routine of theirs, something that was only missed in its screeching absence that Johnbo’s heart almost dropped in his stomach and stayed there until he had forced himself to wake up properly and had found Smauglock on the other side, his back to him.

He dragged himself closer and the heat emanating from the huddled body was scorching. All the time spent communicating mentally made him reach out inside his own head and worry himself to death before he even touched Smauglock gently on the shoulder. Smauglock drew inside himself even more at the brush and Johnbo leaned close to his ear, his small hands resting on Smauglock’s fiery curls, and whispered his name once, twice. Nothing. Thankfully, the rapid rise and fall of the chest consoled him enough not to shake Smauglock out of sleep. As his hands crept out of those curls and over the dragon’s forehead, Johnbo had to put all his will into not exclaiming loudly in surprise and draw his hand back. The dragon was hot, hotter than the hottest days Johnbo had ever experienced and he had experienced quite a lot, not to mention the time he had spent around dragons burning each other with their fiery breaths just for fun.

“Smaug?” he called again, not waiting for a response and emptying the water bowl to go out and fill it with some fresh cold water from the stream. _It’s just a fever_ , he told himself. _It will pass_. But something nagged at the back of his mind and as he was drying himself off after a quick dip in the water that pooled at the base of the stream, not even noticing that a dragon had appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, and Johnbo had been staring right at it for a good minute or so. He stood frozen in place, his lungs feeling like paper balls released from a tight fist. _Breathe in, breathe out_. Whose voice was in his head? This wasn’t the time to inquire.

“Are you Johnbo?” The dragon asked, his voice low but eyes scanning Johnbo’s slight form from head to toe. Johnbo shivered under the scrutiny.

“I- I belong to Smauglock,” he replied hurriedly, not sure why the words came out like that and why his heart was thudding so loudly that he was sure the other dragon would hear it.

The dragon seemed not to care about the response and he stretched out his paw towards Johnbo at which the hobbit gave a start and splashed back inside the pool, getting himself wet all over. Clutched in the claw was a scroll with a seal that was marked with an ornate ‘L’ and when Johnbo still didn’t react, the dragon let out a low sigh and nodded towards the scroll.

“It’s from Lord Mycroloft. I don’t usually pass messages but this seemed too urgent and private to be trusted to a slave,” there was a note of something like pride in his voice, and Johnbo meekly stretched out his small hand to pull the scroll out of the dragon’s grasp. Without even waiting for a response from him, the dragon stretched his wings wide and flew up, zigzagging through the stream. He looked like a brown speck in the distance as Johnbo stood there, astounded out of his skin, and realised that during their entire conversation, he was only now registering the dragon’s appearance. He dragged himself out of the water, careful not to let any splashes on the scroll, and trudged up, remembering to fill the water bowl.

Once safe inside the cave, he cautiously placed the water bowl down and opened the scroll with a flourish. As always, Mycroloft’s words were succinct and clear. Obviously, he knew of Smauglock’s condition and did spare a paragraph to tell Johnbo not to worry. He explained everything and listed out some things that Johnbo should do, none of which involved bathing him with a washcloth dipped in cold water. A few herbs were mentioned but apart from one or two, Johnbo had no idea how to get them. He was just wondering about how he was going to procure all these things when a flapping made him turn around and drop the scroll. The sound was so loud, magnified further by the echoing inside the cave, that even Smauglock turned around, irritation and caution written all over his pale features, his scales almost standing out of his skin. At the sight of the dragon, however, his expression softened almost perceptibly.

“Hello, Q,” Smauglock’s voice cracked from sleep and the fever, and he stretched out his arm towards Johnbo, beckoning him to come to him. Johnbo hurriedly walked back, eyes still on the dragon, feeling a sudden relief despite the prickling and stifling heat emanating from Smauglock’s body. He buried his face in Smauglock’s neck, turning his face away from the huge earth coloured dragon and allowing the arms to scald him in their protective cocoon as he hugged his alpha. He didn’t know where this sudden fear was coming from, it had crept up on him from nowhere, so much so that he was trying hard to hold back tears as Smauglock gently stroked his hands up and down his back, murmuring comforting words in his hair. Seemingly, the dragon drank the scene in without comment because Johnbo heard him sigh patiently again. There was something about that sigh that even in his frazzled state, Johnbo knew that this dragon was related to Smauglock and Mycroloft.

“How are you, Smauglock? Feeling ill,” there was something familiar in the way Smauglock nodded at him, his chin tapping the back of Johnbo’s skull twice.

“Mycroloft tried to contact you on some urgent business but when you didn’t respond, he knew… he thought your omega might be worried and he sent me with some instructions and herbs. I forgot to give him the herbs when I met him by the pond.” He finished, making a swishing sound as he stretched out his other claw. Johnbo twisted in Smauglock’s loose embrace to peek at the stranger shyly and saw him walk closer to let Smauglock detach the pouch that was tied to his leg.

He looked around, seemingly having run out of words.

“Thank you. I know you’re busy, Q,” Smauglock helped him out, smiling one of his earnest smiles that completely changed his face.

The dragon called Q shrugged. “I’m sorry for scaring your omega like that,” he muttered, already getting ready for flight if the impatient ruffle of his wings was anything to go by.

“No, no, it isn’t that. He- we have been through a lot recently.” Smauglock said, his fingers intertwining with Johnbo’s and chin resting on the blonde head of his omega like he was too tired to even hold his head up. Q just nodded and took flight, and Smauglock slowly slumped back down with a harsh sigh, taking Johnbo with him, like the encounter had sapped him off his last energy reserves.

There were so many questions running in Johnbo’s mind and Smauglock answered the first of them.

“That was my step brother, Q,” he muttered in Johnbo’s hair, rolling over to place Johnbo on the space next to him that was relatively cooler. Johnbo quickly got up and got a washcloth out of his bag, dipping it in the water bowl and bringing the entire thing with him to bed. He squeezed the cloth and placed in on Smauglock’s forehead who was all the while looking at him with something akin to amusement in his tired eyes.

“What are you doing?” He let Johnbo fuss around with the cloth that went on his neck next, then back into the water after which Johnbo proceeded to wipe his chest and belly.   
  
“I was so worried,” Johnbo finally pushed the bowl aside and touched Smauglock’s forehead again, watching the water droplets evaporating from his chest with a sizzle.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” Smauglock took his arm and kissed the angry flush that had crept up because of staying in Smauglock’s embrace for barely a few minutes.

After a while, when Smauglock was satisfied that he hadn’t inflicted any permanent damage on Johnbo and Johnbo could feel laziness creeping back into his limbs, he closed his eyes as Johnbo closed his, content at communicating mentally.

“So, Mycroloft told you about why I was ill. I’m pretty sure he has been waiting for it, although I admit I missed all the signs.” Johnbo hummed in response and laid himself flat on his back.

“He said- he said you need to transform regularly or the adrenaline pumping in your veins would be too much for your human body. Why didn’t you?” Smauglock wanted to hold Johnbo close to his chest and whisper his answer but he couldn’t risk burning his precious omega either. So he settled with running his fingers through Johnbo’s hair as he replied.

“You have developed this sudden fear of dragons.” Even when Johnbo flinched, he continued, trying to sound soothing as best as he could. “It’s alright,” he said it out loud, reaching out and dropping a quick scalding peck on Johnbo’s head.

“The experiences we had were traumatic. I don’t even usually feel like transforming anymore anyway, but I understand that after what happened, it will take you some time to recover fully. Look at me, I have undergone some changes. I am more- cautious around dragons, especially when you are anywhere in the vicinity.”

“I’m sorry, I… how long have you known this?” Johnbo sounded so small in his head that Smauglock willed himself to pull the covers tangled in his limbs and wrap them around Johnbo before he was scooting closer and wrapping his arms around his omega’s small shaking form. His hands ran down Johnbo’s back, careful to avoid the exposed skin on the back of his arms that was uncovered by the covers.

“A while,” he said. “Why don’t you check what herbs Mycroloft has sent for my quick convalescence?”

The trick to getting Johnbo out of his miserable mood, as Smauglock had learnt, was giving him some work, any work or activity that made him move and kept him busy. Johnbo leapt at the chance, opening the bundle that Smauglock had kept beside their bed and looking at the herbs that were there. Amazement soon overtook his anxiety and Smauglock fell asleep to the lullaby of the peaceful sounds of domesticity of his omega working the herbs into a concoction using his potions kit.

 

***

 

“You two have to understand that it is all over, that he is not coming back.” Mycroloft tried to keep the disapproval out of his eyes as he surveyed their cave, eyes sweeping over the mess (experiments) in the corner. After Smauglock had absolutely refused to transform, even when the herbs and the concoctions had barely had any effect on him, Mycroloft had paid them a visit. It had been long coming, he said.

“He will come back, Mycroloft, tell me you aren’t naïve enough to actually believe what you are saying and that statement was just for John- Johnbo’s benefit.” Bad health and lack of appetizing food had made Smauglock skittish and irritable. Johnbo decided to examine the small parcel Mycroloft had brought with himself to avoid the encounter the brothers were having. Somewhere during that argument, he realised that it had been Mycroloft’s voice in his head at the lake.

Inside was a small robe, made to fit Johnbo perfectly. It was green, like the forests of the elves, and actually looked elvish in make. The material was supple and looked like it would be warm but when Johnbo brought it to his cheek, it felt cool and breathable. There was a pair of gloves and some round buttons which he guesses could be sewn to the robe.

The sudden quiet made him realise that the pair of dragons had stopped fighting and were looking at him with interest. Feeling their eyes on his back, he tried a glove and turned around, perplexed as to what the purpose of these garments with the strange elvish material could be.

“It’s for you to not be burnt when you touch me,” Smauglock’s voice sounded slightly shy in Johnbo’s mind and he reached out to touch Smauglock’s cheek with his gloved hand, finding it cool. Thanking Mycroloft profusely (“oh, it’s nothing”), he put the other glove on and folded the rest of the garments back in the package, to be examined later.

“I have a proposition for the two of you, something that I should have done months ago but I wanted to give you time to recuperate from… you illnesses. As I can see, I was wrong. I should have nipped your fears in the bud.” Mycroloft seemed not to hear the angry growl Smauglock shot at him and looked at Johnbo. They had the same piercing eyes, the Locke brothers, eyes that seemed to slice people open when they scanned them.

“Your alpha, no matter how complacent he is about his own health (unsubtle snort), is right that this is not over. And before it all starts again, Johnbo, you need to be prepared. I’m not asking for a lot, just that you come to the Locke castle every day for an hour and learn basic defence. You will be taught by teachers who have spent decades perfecting skills in young soldiers and you will learn a lot. Meanwhile, Smauglock will do the same in another chamber with teachers catering to a slightly advanced skill set.” Johnbo took one look at the sour face Smauglock was pulling and waited for a response from him. After a few seconds, the dragon nodded and so, Johnbo agreed, ignoring the way his heart was trying to fall out of his mouth at the thought of entering the Locke castle and being surrounded by so many dragons.

“You wouldn’t be unprotected, you have my word. No one will harm you, Johnbo. And with this exercise, we can also ensure that Smauglock transforms at least once a day and deals with the fears plaguing his soul,” Mycroloft’s voice was kind but Smauglock roared in warning at this. Unaffected by his brother’s antics, which he was used to after the years they had spent together, Mycroloft soldiered on.

“I’m going to tell you something which, as you can see, Smauglock doesn’t want revealed. You are scared of dragons and that is the scar your experiences have dealt on you. But Smauglock suffers from a fear even more terrible. He can’t be separated from you for long hours and when I say hours, I’m being considerate. When you aren’t around, he feels restless, he feels like his old self and he has to learn how to control that if he wants us to have even a slight chance of winning this war.” It seemed like Smauglock was curling up on himself in his mind and Johnbo reached out to him, speaking words of comfort, and still trying to maintain eye contact with Mycroloft.

Finally, after a few more words of caution and fresh instructions to Johnbo, Mycroloft left. As soon as the flapping of his wings was distant, Johnbo crawled in Smauglock’s lap and put his ear to his clothed chest, waiting for the dragon to talk.

“I should have told you,” Smauglock started, lips brushing over Johnbo’s forehead, enough to cause a shiver but not enough to scald.   
“It’s alright, I understand,” Johnbo felt braver and pushed himself up, kissing him on the mouth and wrapping his gloved hands around his neck. And he really did understand. He understood the need to not disappoint his mate, he had felt it himself.

Smauglock wanted to turn him around and strip him out of his clothes, kissing every inch of him till Johnbo was squirming under the attention and a blush was spreading up his neck. He wanted to spread him apart and watch the tentative flutter of his opening, blowing air over it and lapping ever so gently with his tongue, till Johnbo started leaking and moaning into his arm. He wanted the sweaty slapping sounds of skin against skin as he fucked his omega hard, biting on his neck and feeling more possessive of this little being than he had ever felt of anything. He wanted his scent on his omega for days to come and he wanted to feel that flutter of pleasure in his heart when Johnbo limped ever so slightly in the next few days. But he couldn’t. Even the thought made him dizzy with tiredness and a fresh wave of nausea.

And these filthy thoughts, all of which Johnbo could see clear as day because of the length that was hardening under him, were nothing compared to the ache and fear he felt in his guts at the thought of Johnbo training unprotected with a bunch of dragons Smauglock didn’t trust.

“I’ll be fine, Smaug, Mycroloft will be there.” Johnbo whispered, his head tucked under Smauglock’s chin. “And you are pretty transparent, by the way, love,” he couldn’t stop the impish smirk at the way Smauglock made a face and pushed him off his lap, reaching for some water.

“There is something I wanted to ask you and… well, you know I love you, John. And there isn’t anyone I want to spend my life with. I’m like that little orphan dragon who kept breaking all his toys and his foster parents would get him more but they would be a little more angry every time he broke the last one until they couldn’t bear such an unruly little dragon and gave him away. So, he kept shuttling back and forth between foster parents, back when there were many childless dragon couples, until one of his mothers told him that if he stopped breaking toys all the time, he wouldn’t have to change homes. And the dragon thought about why no one had ever told him about this because then, he would have stopped. Are you getting me?” Smauglock finished breathlessly and Johnbo was giving him a slightly amused and incredulous look.

“Not quite… so, you are the dragon who breaks toys?” He asked, confusion written all over his face. Smauglock shrugged loudly. “No, no, I mean, yes, but- never mind, forget I said that. Let’s go back to the initial bit, I love you and yes, yes, that is how I want to start it. Can I have a do over, please?” Johnbo laughed aloud at that and crawled closer to his alpha, taking his face in his gloved hands and looking him in the eyes.

“What is it, Smaug?” he asked as patiently as he could, trying not to laugh at the flustered look the dragon had in his eyes. He looked, and Johnbo never thought he’d associate these words with a dragon, but he really did look endearing and adorable, putting his big paw in his mouth and grasping for words, heaven knows what for.

“Okay,” Smauglock took a deep breath before continuing, “will you- uh- Johnbo, will you marry me?” He closed his eyes because if Johnbo was going to say no, then he didn’t want to see it because Smauglock would be too overwhelmed to pretend he was okay with it.

“Yes,” Johnbo whispered, brushing his lips over Smauglock’s chapped ones. When Smauglock didn’t react at all, he went inside his mind and said, “You’re in your head again, open your eyes” and waited. Slowly, glacially, Smauglock opened his eyes and Johnbo repeated, feeling happier than he had in a long time, “Yes.”

“Yes?”  
“Yes, of course, yes. A hundred times, yes.”  
“You’re sure then?”  
“Of course- what… yes, I will marry you!”  
“Oh, thank lord.”

Smauglock collapsed on the heap of hay and he knew he was crying because things seemed blurry in front of his eyes but he couldn’t be sure because his stomach was doing that weird thing that people called immense and unbridled joy and he knew he was in his head again when he should be kissing Johnbo or thanking him? Was he supposed to thank him? He didn’t know what he was doing, probably going delirious from happiness and fever or both.

“Hey, hey, are you okay?” Johnbo leaned closer to him, wiping a lone tear and brushing his forehead with his hands.

“I’m fine, oh I’m sorry, I’m crying,” Smauglock muttered, slightly embarrassed and hid his face in the small chest of Johnbo, listening to the calm metronome of his heart.  
  
“Shh, it’s okay, it’s fine. It’s all fine,” he whispered in the auburn curls, kissing the curly head and feeling a happy laugh escape him. “We’re going to get married.”

And they had never been happier. Somewhere over them, a darkness grew, a strange sort of fear bubbled just over their common sky but for today, for now, as Johnbo put on his elvish robe and Smauglock hugged him close to himself, content at kissing his head and whispering how much he loved him, right this second, they were happy and they were safe and that is all that mattered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry I'm horrible with regular updates. I'm glad so many of you have this bookmarked, though. Just one more chapter to go.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for bluebellglowinginthedark|tumblr but she doesn't know it yet :P  
> Please leave a review to let me know that you liked it (or didn't).  
> No hate comments about the crossover because the author bites.


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